


College Daze

by AquaSoulSis (LadyFangs)



Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Vikings (TV) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-02-26 13:11:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 61,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13236429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyFangs/pseuds/AquaSoulSis
Summary: “So, you’re the token QB,” she says, but it’s accompanied by a smile in her voice, and one on her face and it makes him laugh.“Never heard it put quite that way, but yeah. I guess so. And you’re the rich girl on campus.”At that it’s her turn to laugh and even blush a little. “Touché. I deserved that.”It’s the icebreaker that’s been needed. And when food arrives, Travis and Liz chat quietly together making general observations...(In which Travis is a college quarterback and meets a girl. But neither is what the other expected).





	1. Chapter 1

The house is darkened, the music, loud. The black light makes white glow and it’s warm in here—the smell of liquor and musk and smoke mingling to create something akin to a bedroom and a nightclub. It’s not really her scene, but she’s designated for the night, and her best friend had begged, pleaded with her, really.

A guy, she’d said and Liz rolled her eyes.

Always a guy.

 Not just any guy, though Kelly said. “He’s a linebacker.”

Ugh. At that, Liz’s answer was a straight up, “hell no.”

“First, it’s a frat party, and you KNOW how I feel about those. Second…he’s a football player AND an Omega? You know better.”

“He’s not like that.”

“Right. What’s he like?”

She waits, arms crossed as Kelly tries and fails to come up with an answer. Finally, after stumbling badly, she folds.

“Fine. Maybe it’s just sex. But you know the code. We don’t party alone, and if it doesn’t work out, I know you’ve got my back.”

Kelly has her there. And Kelly now has her here.

In this dank ass house party surrounded by people she doesn’t know in a situation that’s rapidly turning into some sort of semi-orgy and Liz is scanning the room trying and failing to locate her friend to drag her out of this place.

She starts moving toward the back of the house, threading her way through sweating bodies in various stages of dancing, making out and…other things, when she finally spots Kelly and her…whatever, standing next to the back door. Kelly is wrapped around the guy and they’re kissing. Nothing _too_ loose, she thinks, but still…

“KELLY.”

Breaking up is so hard to do, Liz thinks as reluctantly, her friend separates from her…whatever, and makes a quick introduction.

“Liz, this is James, James, my friend Liz.”

“Hey, nice to meet you.” He reaches out to shake her hand and she accepts, formally.

“Hi. Kelly, are you ready to go?”

“Are you serious right now?”

Kelly looks at her in disbelief. James stands back watching them.

“A hundred percent. Let’s go.”

“No.”

“Kelly…”

James looks between the two women and, seeing the mounting conflict, begs out.

“Hey, Kels. I’ll give you two a minute. I’ve got to find a friend, anyway.”

He dips out, leaving her looking dejected. Angrily, she turns on Liz.

“I can’t believe you just tried to fuck me over.”

“Better me, that you fucking yourself. LOOK at this place,” Liz says motioning toward the darkened living room where a cloud of a gray-purplish haze has started levitating and low moans periodically cut through the pounding bass. At least Kelly has the good sense to look somewhat abashed.

“Ok. I get the point. But I’m not fucking him, and you don’t have to act like my mother, just my friend. And you were a complete dick to James. I get you think all athletes and frat guys are dumb but he’s different.”

“I’ve heard that one before.”

“Liz…”

This time, it’s Kelly’s turn to glower.

It’s the beginnings of an argument when, to both of their surprise, James returns with another guy in tow.

“Hey,” he leans down to kiss Kelly on the cheek, reassuringly—seeming to sense the dynamic. “Found my friend. Kelly and Liz, this is Travis, Travis, this is Kelly and her friend Liz.” Kelly and Liz both give him a “hello” and he greets them back with “hi.”

“Do you two want to get out of here?” James asks. “Get something to eat? It’s getting kind of…” at that, he trails off and beckons to the living room.

“Yes, we’d love to,” Kelly says before Liz can turn them down. “Where to?”

“Waffle House?”

The guy—Travis, is standing slightly off to the side of them, hands in pockets, watching but staying quiet. Liz thinks he looks uncomfortable, and he definitely sticks out in the crowd. She’s curious but decides not to ask.

“Sure,” James tells them. “We’ll see you guys there in 15.”

He and Travis walk out the back door, and Liz and Kelly follow. At the sidewalk, they split—the guys going to their car, and the women to theirs.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, what do you think?”

“About what?”

James rolls his eyes. A year and a half, and in that time, he’s yet to see Travis express anything that looks even remotely like interest in the dozen or so girls he’s tried and failed to introduce to his friend. He’d asked Kelly to bring one to the party in the hopes that maybe, just _maybe_ , Travis would bite.

No dice.

“I’m really starting to think you’re obtuse. Kelly’s friend. Liz. What do you think?”

But Travis just shrugs, glancing out the window.

“If you’re asking me what I think based on exchanging two words with her…”

Ugh. God dammit. This man.

“Dude. I’m trying to get you laid. WHY can’t you just go with it?” James is exasperated. He’s trying to save his night, and not fuck up with Kelly, but Travis is failing at being wingman for the evening, beginning to make him question why he’s still going through the efforts of trying.

“No. You’re trying to get yourself laid,” Travis says drily. “What’s wrong with her? Is she missing a finger? A toe? Did Kelly force you to bring a friend for her hard-up roommate or something? I told you I fucking hate parties.”

Oh, does he.

On the field Travis is a bro. But off it…

“You can be a real dick, you know that? Just…give me an hour, okay? I promise, I’ll owe you one,” James says as they pull into the Waffle House. It’s 1:15 in the morning. The clubs haven’t let out yet and that means that for the moment at least, they’ll be a few of a handful of folks inside. He glances in the rearview mirror, seeing a car pull up behind them and glances over.

“Damn. Is that them?”

Travis looks at the car and shrugs.

It’s a white Acura SUV, recent make. Not exactly the car of a college student. The passenger door opens and Kelly climbs out.

“Guess so,” James mutters, undoing his seat belt and opening the driver door. Travis gets out on the other side just shaking his head. He’s supposed to be wingman, he knows this. But he absolutely hates it when James does this to him—all for the sake of trying to pull a girl.

.

.

“So Travis, what position do you play?” Kelly asks, trying to draw him into conversation at the table.

“Quarterback.”

“Really? For how long?”

“Starter, just this year.”

“Why play here?”

“They paid me.”

Kelly laughs and grins at him.

“Scholarship?”

“Yeah.”

James elbows him and he glances at his friend then in the direction of his eyes.

They’re all seated at a booth, James and Kelly on one side, Travis and Liz on the other. But Liz isn’t talking to him, and he really doesn’t feel like talking or even attempting to make small talk. Seeing the reluctance, it’s James who talks to Liz.

“So Liz…Kelly says you’re a journalism major?”

“Yes.”

“That’s cool. You’re a writer, right? Do you want to do TV?”

“Not really. I just want to report.”

“Oh—like they do on those morning shows and the entertainment ones?”

At that, Liz looks up at the words that come out are biting.

“That’s NOT real news.”

Kelly elbows James and he looks at her then at Liz.

“Oh, sorry—I didn’t know. I just figured…”

“You’re good.”

Shit. She’s damn near as bad as Travis and this time James looks to Kelly for help.

“Why are you two being assholes?” She says.

At that, all three of them look at Kelly in surprise and James is impressed. She pretty much just spoke out loud what he’d told Travis moments before.

“What do you mean?” Liz asks, genuinely puzzled.

“I mean, to us,” she says. “We’re trying to do you BOTH a favor.”

“I don’t NEED any favors.” This time, Liz and Travis both speak the same thing at the same time and when they do, it gets quiet at the table. They look at each other, and tiny, sheepish smiles appear.

James squeezes Kelly’s hand under the table and she grins at him.

“Sorry,” Liz tells Travis.

“No prob. I should apologize too. Just… I hate those kind of parties,” he explains, and is pleasantly surprised when she nods in agreement.

“I’m so glad I’m not the only one.” It’s accompanied by a shudder. They turn to each other and visibly relax.

“So, you’re the token on the team,” she says, but it’s accompanied by a smile in her voice, and one on her face and it makes him laugh.

“Never heard it put quite that way, but yeah. I guess so. And you’re the rich girl on campus.”

At that it’s her turn to laugh. “Touché. I deserved that.”

It’s the icebreaker that’s been needed. And when food arrives, Travis and Liz chat quietly. They’re in the midst of comparing notes on people in general when they’re momentarily interrupted by James.

“Hey man, we’re gonna split,” he says, scooting out the booth with Kelly in hand.

“Yeah. Liz…I’ll see you later, okay?” Kelly says giving her the look that Liz knows is basically a negotiation.

She rolls her eyes, and looks skeptical, but Travis whispers to her. “I know what you’re thinking. James is my roommate. He’s not one of _those_.”

It’s a voucher, and that, coupled with the “please don’t embarrass me right now” look Kelly is giving her, makes Liz relent.

“Alright.”

They go, leaving Travis and Liz together and alone in the booth.

They finish eating and call for their tabs. He reaches for hers, but she pulls it away.

“Dutch,” Liz explains. “It’s not like this is a date.” Travis frowns.

“I was trying to be polite.”

“It’s fine. You don’t have to be. I just don’t want to set any expectations.”

It’s a bit hard, even to her own ears, but Travis just looks at her a long moment—so long, it starts to make her somewhat…uncomfortable.

“What are you staring at?”

“You thinking I’m like him. So, should we go?”

She scoots out the booth, grabbing her to-go box and they pay the cashier at the door. Once outside, Travis looks around and curses to himself.

“What?”

“James was my ride.” He sighs and pulls out a cell phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling a ride,” he mutters under his breath. “Fucking James....”

It’s near 3 a.m. but still warm outside.

“Hey, I can take you, if you want.”

“Nah. Go home. I’ll be fine.”

He’s stubborn, but she is too. That, and she realizes what she sounded like when she rejected his offer to pay.

“Come on. No use in calling for a ride when there’s one already here. And just so you know,” she tells him, “I didn’t mean to imply that about you.”

 “You sure?” Travis is still skeptical, she can see it in his face but, “If I wasn’t would I offer? If you’ve figured anything out about me, _that_ should be obvious.” She’s already walking around to the driver’s side and Travis chuckles, coming around to the other.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Where to?”

“I stay with James.”

She shakes her head. “Sorry. I don’t know where he stays. What’s the address?”

“It’s…on campus,” he tells her, and that’s where they go. Liz drops Travis off at one of the many dorms and he climbs out.

“Thanks again,” he tells her.

“You’re welcome. Goodnight Travis.”

She waits until he’s inside before backing out, and driving to her own off-campus apartment, but when she unlocks the door she stops, resisting the urge to just murder Kelly on the spot. But that wouldn’t do—not when her friend is otherwise “occupied” with James…on HER couch. In her living room.

It’s so rude, and Liz is pissed as she goes to her room and slams the door.

They’re having a conversation in the morning. And she absolutely doesn’t give a flying fuck if James is there, or not. If he is, he’ll get cussed out too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

“Do not ever disrespect me like that again.”

“Excuse me? You’re not the only one that pays rent here, you know.”

“Yeah, well…I bought that damn couch. You want to buy me a new one?”

“WHY must everything be so serious with you. God, Liz…get on a dick or something. You need to fucking CHILL. HOW many nights did Montgomery stay over? And I NEVER criticized you for it! So get off your high-ass horse.”

Liz and Kelly are in a face-off, with James trying his best to get his clothes on quick. He doesn’t know whether to intervene or to just leave, but he doesn’t want to go because the situation looks absolutely volatile, and while he doesn’t profess to know Liz very well (or at all, really) he can tell she’s wound up tight and this morning isn’t really how he expected to wake up  and if a fight were to break out he thinks he kinda wants to stick around to watch…but…they’re two women, and women fight worse than men and that could get ugly and he doesn’t really want it to come to blows…

“Hey, um…Kelly, Liz…look—it’s my fault. I’m sorry –“

At that, Liz turns on him, eyes narrow. “Get the fuck out.”

“Who do you think you ARE?!” Kelly now. “He’s MY guest. And again—I have every right to have whoever here I want. My NAME is equally on the lease too, so NO--” she looks at James. “You _don’t_ have to go _anywhere_.”

Jesus…these two. James shakes his head and sighs, making the decision. He comes to stand next to Kelly and face Liz.

“Look. I get it. I know you’re pissed and I’m sorry. It just…happened, and it won’t happen again, Liz. Can we just…call a truce?” He extends his hand to her and she looks at it like it’s diseased.

“You don’t have to apologize to her spoiled ass,” Kelly says, but James shakes his head.

“Nah, Kels. She’s right. You wouldn’t be happy if the positions were reversed. Look, Liz,” he tries again. “It was the moment. We were wrong for that. Just… can you two please not fight?”

Because he really likes Kelly, and while he’s not sure exactly what to think of Liz, he’s got to respect the woman—after all, she looked after her friend last night, and that’s what friends are supposed to do, and Kelly told him enough about Liz to let James know they’re close. Plus…he knows it will eventually earn him some pussy points.

Eventually, she sighs and accepts his hand, shaking it.

“Just…please, ya’ll. That’s…not hot.”

It’s resigned and as Liz calms down, so does Kelly, finally having the decency to look somewhat embarrassed by it all.

“Sorry, sis, she says. The two trade a brief hug and James exhales. Crisis averted. It’s 9 a.m. Saturday morning and he’s got a walk-though in an hour. He gives Kelly a quick kiss on the cheek.

“See you later?” He asks.

“Yeah, if you’re up to it,” she tells him.

“Bye Liz,” he says giving a small wave before heading out.

By the time he gets to the dorm, there’s just enough time for him to dress out and head to the stadium. Travis is already there and just gives him a side glance as starts his own warm ups on the sideline.

“Have fun?”

James shakes his head. “Man….Liz is a damn hurricane.”

Travis laughs. “What did you do?”

“Woke up in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he admits. “Me and Kelly didn’t quite…make it to the bedroom.”

“That’s what you get,” Travis tells him, continuing to toss a football back and forth with one of the trainers, warming up his arm.

“Man, you couldn’t keep Liz out just a little while longer?” Now that he’s really thinking through it, James realizes that as a wingman, Travis failed spectacularly. Liz wasn’t supposed to come home—at least, not so early. And if Travis played his part right, she wouldn’t have.

“Nope.”

“Oh come on! When we left, you two looked to be at least kinda friendly.”

“Yeah, well… maybe you shouldn’t have just left me stranded.”

“Liz had a car!”

“Yeah, she gave me a ride.”

“And you didn’t give HER one? Dude, come the fuck on… You _had_ to notice that Liz is fine as hell! What MORE could you possibly want?”

But Travis doesn’t answer that, and James throws up his hands in frustration.

“Well…I’m seeing Kelly later tonight. I mean…are you at least a _little_ interested? I’m NOT trying get on her friend’s bad side again. This morning was shitty enough. Help me out?”

It’s the same thing James used to talk him into going to that damn house party. “Help you out how?” Travis is suspicious.

James grins, knowing he’s caught his attention.

“If Kelly can talk Liz into it…do you want to come to?” Seeing the look Travis gives him, James quickly follows with, “just to chill, man! Just to chill. I swear.”

“I’ma start charging you,” Travis grumbles. But it’s not “no,” and a grinning James slaps him on the back.

Because maybe the man is a little correct…maybe, Travis had noticed a…couple of…things.

.

.

“So, what did you think? He’s cute, right?”

“If you say so.”

Kelly rolls her eyes. “Come on, Liz. James says he’s a good guy.”

She nods. “Yeah. Travis said the same for him and I walk through the front door to see his black _ass_ in my face…”

“Look! I said I was sorry, okay? You don’t have to rub it in. I’ll get the couch cleaned.”

“You better.” But Liz isn’t mad anymore. By now, it’s just residual annoyance. And if she’s real with herself, she cannot fault Kelly for it. It’s not like her friend did anything wrong. Insensitive? Yeah. Unthinking? Very, but she’s known Kelly a long time. Since the two of them were high school freshman who used to come here every summer for band camp and they’re practically sisters now. Kelly is smart, and it’s not like she sleeps around.

“But for real,” Kelly sneaks another look at Liz. “You didn’t say anything about Travis. Did you guys talk more after we left?”

“Yeah. We exchanged few words,” she says, still refusing to catch what Kelly is fishing for.

Her friend rolls her eyes. “God you’re difficult to please. I mean…would you be up to seeing him again or anything? I mean… I think James and I are, so…what about it?”

“I’m not interested in dating him, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“I’m not saying date him. But if we’re all hanging out, I don’t want you being an asshat.”

“I’m NOT an asshat.”

“You were last night ‘till I called you on it,” she says. “Are you okay with James coming over tonight?”

At that one, Liz shoots her a look and Kelly forges ahead.

 “It’s just to hang out! I swear, your sacred couch will be fine.”

That one causes Liz to laugh and Kelly smiles. “And I’ll ask James to see if Travis wants to come too…” she says, dipping out of the living room before Liz can say no.

Liz shakes her head.

Kelly is stubborn. But she’s also rarely wrong. Because even if Liz won’t admit it. Maybe…maybe she does think Travis is cute…in a scruffy kind of way. He seems like an okay guy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

“You’re wearing that?”

“What’s the matter?”

“Travis, that’s…never mind,” James says, seeing the look his friend is giving him. He lets it go, intuitively discerning that this is something Travis is…sensitive about. It’s nothing he says directly, just the look.

The ride to Liz’s place off campus takes about 15 minutes.

“She has a house?” Travis is incredulous as they get out the car and walk up the drive. It’s a townhouse, really, a newer one in what he quickly gleans isn’t a student neighborhood. The place is Stepford-wives type neat, with more than a few sedans and mini-vans parked outside identical townhouses mixed in with single-family homes. In a gated neighborhood, no less. These are the kind of places he used to yearn to be in when he was a kid. He shakes his head. That stuff is behind him. Unpleasant, but he made it, regardless of the circumstances.

“I think they’re just renting it,” James says as they walk up to the door and ring the bell. After a moment or two of silence, the door opens and it’s Kelly, letting them in.

 She hugs James and he hugs her back. Travis stands back awkwardly as they kiss. Not that he’s hating—he’s not. But still…third wheeling isn’t fun. Eventually, they pull apart and Kelly takes them further into the house, and into the living room.

“Movies? Is that good with you two?” she asks.

“Anything is good with you,” James tells her, and Travis just nods.

“Let me give you guys a tour,” she says. “Liz ran to the store, but she’ll be back in a minute.”

“Should I have brought something?” James asks, and Kelly shakes her head. “Nah. Pizza is on its way, if you two are hungry. She just went for drinks. Come on.”

They follow as Kelly takes them through. The townhouse is a single story, but it’s fairly large, with an open kitchen, living and dining area. A door leads out to a backyard that’s home to a large Oaktree, a porch built around it, with a fire pit in the middle and a wooden awning decorated with lights.

There are three bedrooms down a separate hallway, with two master suites at either end and the third room in the middle. Right now, they have it set up as an office.

“And that’s pretty much it,” she says as they get back to the living room, right as the front door opens and Liz comes through, carrying two bags.

Travis goes to help her.

“Thanks,” she says, moving to the kitchen to put one on the counter. He follows.

“Can I help with anything?”

“Do you know how to make margaritas?” She asks.

In fact, he does. Liz points him back toward the living room as she starts rummaging through cabinets in the kitchen. Travis fetches the Tequila from the cabinet, impressed with the liquor collection they’ve got. Most top shelf. He’s more accustomed to cheaper stuff, but he won’t complain.

Soon, the doorbell rings again and Kelly gets it, paying for the pizzas and bringing those into the kitchen as well.

Liz has the blender going and both she and Kelly are now working side-by-side, with Travis and James looking on. They glance at each other, with James mouthing to him: “see? Cool, right?”

He doesn’t quite know if it’s cool, but so far, it’s been fine and when Kelly comes back she’s carrying paper plates, napkins and red cups. Liz follows with a pizza box and the blender.

They settle down.

“Ya’ll can have the couch,” Liz says drily, making Travis damn near spit his margarita out, he’s laughing so hard. It’s a deep, rolling laugh and James looks surprised.

“Seriously man?”

“Yeah. She got you, there.” He says, still chuckling as he takes another sip. He and Liz are sharing the loveseat situated on the left. Liz glances at Travis, trying to disguise her smile behind the rim of her cup. But he sees it and cautions a small one her way. She had thrown a few zingers last night too—and he likes her wit.

“I never heard him laugh like that,” James whispers to Kelly. She grins. “Look at the way she’s looking at him,” she says back. Their heads down, foreheads touching.

“So, what are we watching?” Liz asks, seeing the two of them whispering between themselves.

“I figured we’d start with action-comedy,” Kelly says, turning on the TV and flipping to Netflix. She scrolls until she finds what she’s looking for and they all settle down, grab some Pizza and laugh at Ben Stiller’s _Tropic Thunder_.

“You know when I first saw this movie, I was so confused,” Liz says to Travis, reaching for a slice of pizza and a plate.

“How so?” He’s doing the same, with two.

“I totally thought those fake previews were real,” she says. “And so did everyone in the theatre. People couldn’t figure out whether they were being rude if they laughed. So awkward.”

He chuckles at that.

“So, what’s you’re deal?” Travis asks her, between bites and drinks. Damn. He made these strong. But the tequila is having an effect—loosening his normally uptight mood and Liz is more relaxed as well. They find themselves talking more to each other.

“Don’t really have a deal,” she tells him. “I pretty much go to school and work.”

“Work? Really? Where?”

He’s surprised. Between the townhouse and the car, he hadn’t exactly pictured Liz as a woman who works.

“I do general assignment for the local paper,” she says. “I’m trying to get some good clips so when I graduate, I can hopefully land a solid job. I really want to be a journalist, but it’s competitive. Working at the school paper doesn’t cut it anymore.”

“No offense, but I didn’t exactly see you as the type who had to work,” he tells her.

“I get that a lot. It’s the car. I hate it, but I can’t really get rid of it—it’s in my parents’ name.”

“And the townhouse?”

“Me and Kelly. The family that owns it are friends of my parents, and they rent to us.”

“Still, this place has to be…expensive,” he says, talking another look around him. The place is large, and still looks new. Like a model home or something. The women actually have real furniture—not the pressboard stuff that the school supplies for the dorms.

“It’s not as bad,” Liz tells him. “But I work for it. I don’t want my parents doing everything for me. In fact, the less they do or are involved, the happier I am.”

It has an edge to it, and he looks at her, slightly aback. He can’t imagine that sort of thing.

“You’re lucky,’ he tells Liz. “At least you have parents who look out for you.” It comes out wistful. Yearning. Far more sentimental that he’d intended and it Travis tries to cover for it by taking a quick drink. Liz glances at him, surprised at his words.

“I’m sorry.” She tries to back track, sensing she’s touched something raw.  “Please don’t misunderstand me. I love my parents. I love my family. But I also want to stand on my own. I want to take care of myself and I know that in the real world, there’s not always going to be someone there to take care of me. It doesn’t work that way, and I’m not so naïve to believe it does,” she says.

He nods. “I get that. You like your independence.”

“Yeah. And my parents…I don’t think they’ve ever accepted I’m not a kid anymore.” But it’s said with a smile, and he looks at Liz, taking her in fully.

She’s definitely no kid. Her hair is long and thick, with loose curls and he know better than to ask but he’s pretty sure it’s all hers too. He’s been at this school and around black women in general long enough to know better than to ask if he can touch it. That mistake was made his freshman year and he still cringes at the response he got to that one. The girl was visibly offended, and she and her friends had all laughed at him before she dismissed him from her presence with a twist of a hand and the turning of her back.

He’d felt like an idiot and from then on, just knew it wasn’t something to ask. Pretty much why he’d sat mostly sat on the sidelines in the dating scene since then. Mostly. There were a few but none that counted for much of anything and most of his time was occupied by class and football anyway.

 Only in the past few months has James come down on him more about that though. It started last Spring with what were not-so-subtle attempts to drag him out the dorm, followed by increasing efforts at fix-ups and straight up hook-ups.

“She’s guaranteed, man. Even Mike and Delray…” Travis had had to curb James on that one. He doesn’t do leftovers, and told James exactly that. It had stopped the nagging, until a few days ago when James had got him to agree to go to the party. But the inclusion of a friend wasn’t in it, so he’d been…not exactly pleased to see it was yet another attempt at a set up. But apparently, Liz had felt the same way, leading to their initially negative reactions to each other.

Now, though.

Now, sitting close to her, he can see more of her.  Liz’s skin looks soft, laced with red undertones under her brown skin and she’s got…freckles. A smattering of light ones across her cheeks. He’s never seen a black girl with freckles and he thinks it’s kinda…neat. Her lips are nice, too. Full, and she radiates when she smiles.  Not to mention her dry sense of humor. The package is all very…alluring. James’ description of her being “fine” is a bit of an understatement, he thinks. Liz is really quite… elegant. That’s the word he’d choose if he had to describe her.

Elegant.

All they’re doing is sitting on couches, watching movies, eating pizza and drinking margaritas—a casual night, but he’s glad to see Liz doesn’t have on any makeup. And at the party, she didn’t either.

So what he’s seeing and has seen so far, is all her. That’s something rare, and he appreciates that she’s confident in her own skin.

He recognizes that’s he’s been staring when she shifts a bit, and glances at him, before taking a long drink to tamp down on…whatever the hell as made her stomach start fluttering. Because suddenly she’s nervous and doesn’t really know why.

Travis has nice eyes, she thinks. They’re a light, pale blue with dark irises and his gaze is intense, like he’s examining her, searching for something. But what, she doesn’t know. They crinkle at the corners when he laughs. But she does admit…Kelly is correct he’s…cute. Well…not cute exactly, more…refined. There’s a maturity about him that’s attractive—the way he speaks, the way he carries himself. Like he’s not trying to be anything other than what he is. She gets the impression that with Travis, what you see is what you get. Even now, he’s dressed down. A faded black hoodie jacket, light jeans and a simple white t-shirt. That’s about it.

She looks away realizing she’s sort of been staring.

“Hey,” he says. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Liz blinks, and really, all Travis sees is the way those dark eyelashes flutter up at him, like butterfly wings. She’s got gorgeous eyes, he thinks. Almond-shaped and dark brown. And, she smells good.

It’s a thing. He doesn’t know why, but he’s very much attracted to certain scents and Liz is close enough that he can smell her…like honey and vanilla. The first two things that come to mind, and…

Kelly sneezes. Startling both of them and making them spring apart.

“Bless you,” Liz says quickly, scooting back a bit.

“Bless you, Travis mumbles slipping to the other side of the loveseat.

“Crap, that hurt,” Kelly says scrunching up her nose.

They watch the rest of the movie, and when it’s over, Travis gets up.

“Hey, ready man?”

“Yeah,” James says, standing and giving Kelly a hug. “Game’s tomorrow,” he says. “Are you coming?”

“Of course!” She tells him. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Travis is already heading to the door. But before he goes, he stops and looks at Liz. “I had a good night,” he tells her. “Thanks for dinner and the movie.”

“You’re welcome,” she tells him, looking up. He’s tall, she thinks, taller than she remembered him being the night before, but it’s not like she’d been paying that much attention. Now, though, she is. Travis’ hair is short, cut close to his head but thick, and his beard is full, but cropped close. It’s a good look, she thinks. But what’s caught her attention are his lips which…

She bites hers.

“Good night, Travis.”

“Night Liz,” he steps through the door and turns to her. Inside, James and Kelly are taking the longest of goodbyes. She turns in the direction he’s looking and just shakes her head.

“Those two.”

“I know.” He rolls his eyes, and makes a face, causing her laugh quietly.

 “Alright. For real this time. See you later Kels. By Liz.” James comes up behind her, interrupting yet again and providing Travis and Liz an out.

 “Bye James. Bye Travis,” she says, as she and Kelly watch them leave.

They close the door and Kelly yawns.

“See? That wasn’t so bad. Are you going to come to the game tomorrow?” Liz starts cleaning up the plates and empty cups from the table, carrying it all to the kitchen and dumping it into the trash can.

“Maybe. If I can get off work on time. When does it start?”

“Three. You should go. You didn’t go to any games last year. You have to do at least one before we graduate!”

“Since when did you get into football?” Liz asks, looking at her.

“Since I got into James,” Kelly says, smirking to herself.

“You mean since he got into you,” Liz says, the sarcasm coming through loud and clear. But Kelly isn’t deterred.

“Well…maybe you’ll get into football too,” she says yawning while beginning the retreat to her room. “You and Travis looked cozy tonight.” ~~~~


	5. Chapter 5

Her “assignment” turns out to be a profile of two elderly bikers making their annual pilgrimage to town for the “Retreads” Motorcycle club rally. She had no clue there was even such a thing. But the couple—an 89-year-old Minnesota woman and her 94-year-old husband—are adorable, and because they’re also old, they happened to already be up when most everyone else in town was still asleep. Which made for a quick, and humorous interview, complete with getting a ride in Jack’s (the husband’s) side car. She’d left with a smile and in a pretty good mood, and the story itself “Seasoned Bikers Cruise the Streets” was fairly easy to write.

Still, she knows she’s cutting it close by the time she gets back to her house at 2:15. Kick-off is in 45 minutes, and Kelly has been texting non-stop, having gone ahead with a few of their friends.

A quick run through the shower and a change of clothes and by the time Liz climbs back in the car, its 2:45. And a 15 minute drive to campus. But it’s there where she hits another snag. Their school isn’t a big football kingdom and on a regular day parking is hard to come by. But this…is a nightmare. Thank God she wore sneakers, because by the time she FINALLY makes it to the stadium the team is halfway through the first quarter.

“Excuse me. ‘Scuse me,” the shuffle through the already packed stands takes another few minutes but she spots Kelly and more of their friends waving at her.

“This is insane,” Liz comments by the time she sits down. But right as she does, their team scores and the band strikes up. The crowd is deafening and they all get up and sing along and chat the school’s name.  The field goal is good, and the crowd cheers again and when they’re able to settle down again, Liz leans over to Kelly, who’s watching the field intently.

“Which one is James?” She asks.

“There,” Kelly points. “Number 55.” Liz looks and sure enough, spots him on the defense, locked in arms with the offenses. Even from where she sits, the sound of bodies and helmets crashing makes her cringe. But soon, she too gets caught up in the game, when he ball returns to their side.

“Hey, there’s Travis!” Kelly points and Liz peers down as the teams scramble to the snap.

“Where?”

“In the middle. The man with the ball,” Kelly tells her. “Number five.”

The ball is snapped, Travis gets it and Liz watches, enthralled as he looks left to right, searching …searching…the ball goes flying and she follows it, cheering with the rest when the receiver catches it, jumps over a defender and runs it into the end zone for a touchdown.

Now, the stands are rocking as the band starts playing the S.O.S. Bands Song of Success. She knows the dance, and gets in on it, as her section sings along and starts moving in sync with each other. She’s having a good time and when half time comes, the players leave the field and the band’s come on.

When she was younger, she really wanted to join the band but quickly realized early on that she had to make a choice—either march, or find internships. Because the amount of time it took to perfect the show—from learning the music, to the dance routines, field positions…Liz didn’t make it past band camp. But she still has love for the ones that did. And now, as she watches them she’s hit with a pang of yearning…because the band looks like they’re having fun and when the dance routine starts, she and the others dance and sing along to all the songs they play.

It’s part of the reason why she’d argued her parents down when it came to picking a school. They’d wanted her to go to the one across the railroad tracks. The big, Division 1 school with all the rich donors and the state’s flagship. But she’d attended private schools all her life and was tired of being either the only, or one of the very few black kids in the class. Her dad had even tried to force her hand.

“I won’t pay for it,” he’d told her.

“Then I’ll get scholarships.” And she did. And as soon as she started working, she declared as an independent so that she could qualify for grants which also helped support living expenses. Her father had been impressed with that, and her mom was quite pleased, even joking that she was her dad’s twin. At the end of her freshman year, her dad FINALLY accepted her college choice, and made peace with it.

The third quarter starts off strong and for a while—there’s no scoring, both sides now in a grudge match, moving up and down the field. The hits are harder, she thinks and when a fight breaks out between a receiver and a lineman…

The refs run to the middle. Yellow flags are everywhere.

“Sportsman-like conduct on the offense and the defense” the ref shouts to boos from the crowd. “Any further contact will result in ejection.”

Now it’s tense, and both the teams and the crowd is riled up,

 The fourth quarter and the opposing team has the snap.

The catch is good but the receiver is taken down at the five yard line.

Their school manages to miss the block and the extra point is good, leaving them down by seven with 3:58 left on the clock.

“That’s plenty of time,” Kelly says, her voice anxious though. “Still lots of football left.”

Liz just nods, at the edge of her seat. Travis trots onto the field with the offense.  She can’t really see him, his face really, under the helmet but she can see the number on his jersey.

The ground tousle begins again.

And then…Liz and the crowd gasp when there’s a break in the wall and Travis gets hit. He goes down hard, three men on top of him.

Now she, Kelly and the rest of their friends, are on their feet, waiting to see who has the ball.

 A big sigh, when they all see their team still has possession.

The offense lines up again.

A snap. A pass. Caught, but he’s taken down.

Repeat.

Steadily, the clock counts down. Their team is still seven points behind, but she’s hopeful. They’re close. On the 20 and….

The snap goes off without a hitch and Travis backs up quickly with the ball searching…

The clock continues…

10…9…8….7….

She can tell he’s weighing the options. Both receivers are tied up and so…Travis runs for it, but he’s quickly caught and so he throws the ball, seeing a receiver come open…it’s a long shot…

And it’s intercepted!

The opposing team’s fans cheer like crazy while they all collapse on the bleachers, groaning in defeat.

It’s the first game of the season and it really sucks to lose, but a loss, at least at an HBCU doesn’t ever really feel like one, and sure enough, after the band plays the final song, the school’s alma mater which Liz thinks sounds like a funeral dirge, they’re back with another one—a medley of top hits and soon, the initial wave of depression lifts as the crowd starts filing out.

“Hey we’re going to Level 8 tonight,” Quanda, one of Kelly’s associates, tells them. “Want to come?”

“Yes! I’ll bring James,” she says excitedly.

“Great! See you guys there. Bye Liz,” Quanda says speaking to her the first time. Liz just nods. It’s not as if she doesn’t like Quanda…it’s just…she’s gotten the impression that Kelly’s friends don’t really like her. Not that she’s ever done anything to them. It’s just…they never speak to her in passing unless Kelly is there. And even then, there’s usually just hi and bye.

The stands are now mostly empty, save for the band heads and some alumni who stand around listening to the ensemble play on as she and Kelly make their way out of the stadium and around to the back, to wait for the team by the field house. There’s others here too—older people, parents, waiting to greet their sons and more than a few other women—likely girlfriends or groupies—Liz thinks casting a side glance at them and, based solely on how they’re dressed surmises they may be the latter. Because even though it’s fall in Florida at 6 p.m. that STILL doesn’t warrant the kind of shorts where half an ass is hanging out, but… “Hey, some guys like it like that. Stop judging.”

Kelly again.

Liz shakes her head. Not in this lifetime.

Eventually James comes out, dressed casually in sweat pants and a team t-shirt, looking glum and Kelly goes to hug him.

 They kiss in the lot.

“Aw, babe. It’s okay, ya’ll got the next one.”

“Yeah,” he says, wrapping an arm around her waist,” but we should have HAD this one. Shit.”

There’s a bit of awkward silence, before Kelly asks, “Where’s Travis?”

James glances back to the field house. “He’ll be out in a minute. Wasn’t his fault, but he really hates losing.”

Sure enough, a tall figure emerges.

“Travis! Over here!” James calls to him and the figure stops.

Travis is dressed similarly, but Liz can tell by the way his shoulders are slightly hunched and hands in pockets that maybe now might not be the time. He’s scowling.

“Hey,” still, she tries. “It was a good game.”

“Yeah. Until the last 15 seconds.”

Definitely not a good time.

“Travis, we’re going to Level 8 tonight. Do you want to come?” Kelly asks him. James nods. “Yeah, I’m going. Liz, are you?”

“Um, sure.” She looks at Travis but he shakes his head.

 “No.”

 And with that, he walks off, leaving them standing there awkwardly and Liz feeling like a third wheel.


	6. Chapter 6

 

The Fall semester is always busy, and his free time is basically non-existent. The first home game was an awkwardly scheduled Sunday affair, which means they got Monday off from practice, but not from classes. And when he wakes up at 7 Monday morning and rolls over, his body feels that sack 1000 times over. Even his toes hurt. But pain is mental, so Travis gets up anyway and grabs his flip flops and some clothes—sweats, underwear, t-shirt—along with his washcloth, soap and toothbrush and straggles down the hall.

He’s the only one up—most of the other guys have set their classes later, but he doesn’t mind it. What he does mind is that this dorm is old, that the water takes forever to heat up, that most of the shower stalls are out of commission for some reason or the other, leaving the only one working the one with the worst water pressure.  It’s a quick shower. And he takes his stuff back to the room he shares with James. Only, no James. Which means he stayed over at Kelly and Liz’s.

There’s a twinge.

Travis knows Liz didn’t deserve that yesterday. He knows she was just trying to be nice and that he didn’t have to be so curt with her after the game. It was only the first one, a loss, but still…he’s competitive—he’s always had to be and losing, well…he just really hates losing. Especially a game that they should have won by any measure. And he feels a bit like it was his fault, if he’d just thrown it a little higher…a little harder…

Still, Liz had looked pretty yesterday, more than pretty really. But he simply wasn’t in the mood. Besides, it’s not like he has the time anyway.

It’s 7:45. No time for much else, so he grabs his backpack and heads to class.

After the first, Agile Project Management, he stops at the cafeteria for breakfast, and then its off to the weight room. Nothing heavy, just resistance training. His body still hurts, but that’s more bruising than muscle overextension and the workout actually makes him feel better.

 Next up, the second class of the day: Three of them, back-to-back, after the last, its off to grab a quick bite at the cafeteria, and then the next class: Architectural Design III. He hates this course. Absolute despises it. It’s the professor really. While Travis knows much of architecture is subjective, he feels this particular professor is just a jerk—because if the building is structurally sound and a client has approved the design, what else is needed? But no…it’s all about lines and angles, with this man—and here, he sort of feels like Howard Roak. He and this professor just don’t see eye-to-eye.

Thankfully, today is just lecture so he jots down notes and then it’s off to the field for practice.

The first day after the game, thankfully, is mostly film review, but he cringes as they all watch and analyze the play-by-play.

It was going so well…until those final 15 seconds and sure enough, when they get there, he sees the break in the wall, and the options growing smaller and smaller by the second…there.

The pivotal moment.

Even the coach points it out.

“Travis, did you not see the other receiver was more open?”

He didn’t. He shakes his head. But the coach is right. On second look, he sees it clearly. The opening he’d desperately searched for on the field.

They go through it. Player, by player, the coach picks them apart.

“Travis didn’t have cover, why? What happened? How do we fix it?”

They plot, plan.

 Eventually, they break. And he goes back to the café for dinner. Then back to the field house.

Study hall for another two hours. He’d seen James during practice and now that there’s a bit of downtime, they finally get some time to chat. But they don’t say too much because…well, they’re supposed to be studying.

 Some guys, he knows, need the extra time to keep their grades up, but school has never been much of a challenge to him, aside from that damn design class, so Travis uses most of it to review his notes from earlier in the day and read through his syllabi for the semester.

It’s not until that night that the two of them finally get a chance to REALLY talk.

“Why’d you do that, yesterday?” James asks as soon as the door to their dorm room closes.

“Do what?”

“You know damn well. Ditch us. Well, Liz, really. I thought you were feelin’ her?”

“I didn’t ditch anyone.” He doesn’t answer the last part.

“Liz isn’t the type to give second chances. At least reach out to her and explain. You came off like a cod piece.”

“Who says I want anything from her?”

“Please. You run that bullshit on someone who doesn’t know you. I DO. You’ve never looked at a girl that way before.”

“What way?”

At that, James smirks and grabs a pen. He scrawls something down on a sheet of paper and hands it to him.

Travis looks at the number and raises his eyebrows.

“Call her,” James says.

.

.

He doesn’t call. Not that he doesn’t want to….just because he’s a glutton for punishment and decided to take six classes this semester and Tuesday’s schedule is much like Monday, only it starts later and practice includes game planning for next week’s opponent along with conditioning drills and he falls into bed tired as hell.

There’s no night that he’s coming in no earlier than 9—and by the time he gets a shower it’s close to 10 and he’s out.

Wednesday goes by.

Thursday, the team departs for the first away game.

The second of the season, and they win by a field goal, but it’s also a turnaround trip and between the ride there and back--their buses pull up to camps at 3 a.m. Sunday morning and thank god for Sunday because even God himself has to rest. And Travis does. All day.

Monday starts yet another grueling week with yet another away game.

It’s all he can do to focus on his schedule and stay caught up—at least his professors post the study notes online. And it’s now when the halls come in handy—because during football season he usually misses a day of class a week, and it’s a struggle to stay caught up.

The second week is apparently too much for James, though. He’s in a shit mood, grumbling to himself, the music in their room loud. It goes on like this for a hot minute until Travis says something.

“Can you turn that down?”

“What for?”

“Because I’ve got a test tomorrow.”

He is NOT playing this game. Travis gets up and turns the Bluetooth system off himself.  James sits up, angrily.

“What’s your fucking problem?”

“What’s yours?”

They glare at each other until, after a moment, James relents.

“Sorry, dude. Just…” he looks away sheepishly.

“It’s been too long. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“How the fuck you last so long. I haven’t gotten laid since last week and you? What’s it been? Years?”

At that, Travis just shakes his head. It’s not years, but James doesn’t know that and he’s always tried to be…discreet.

“Discipline.” It’s all he offers.

“I texted Kelly, but apparently she’s studying tonight too. TGIF, though, right?”

Tomorrow is Friday. And after that, the weekend.

“Yeah,” Travis says.  “But I want Saturday.” Because he’s ready. They’ve won the last road game and he’s planning for another. No more losses this season—not if he can help it.

“Hey,” James says, settling back down. “Did you ever call Liz?”

Shit. He knew he forgot something.

Reluctantly, Travis shakes his head.

“WHY NOT?” This time, James is indignant. “Come on, Travis, for real?”

“I _forgot,”_ he says defensively.

“Fuck. I told Kelly you would.”

“I never said I would.”

James falls back into his bed. Angry as all hell. For the life of him, he cannot figure Travis out. What else can there be? He’d thought they were into each other. Sure looked like it on the couch, but now…nothing. Who just _forgets_?

He takes out his phone and texts Kelly. She texts back.

“I’m sorry, babe. I tried.”

A few moments later, he gets a response.

“Can you try again?” She writes.

A smile at that one. They’re both trying for their friends. Two friends who seem content on being alone.

“Hey Travis.”

“What?”  Exasperated.

“Call her.”

He thinks about it. It’s been almost two weeks.

.

.

She ended up not going to the party. The only reason she agreed in the first place was because…well…maybe she wanted to see Travis again. But he’d killed that Sunday after the game when he’d looked at her like she was nothing and kept right on going.

Liz isn’t accustomed to rejection—and it’s not like she did anything to him personally. He was just rude and she figured after she got over it—that this must be the way he was, because it was also the way she first met him at the other party anyway. It’s not like they did anything. It was just pizza and a movie which doesn’t account for much. Besides, it’s not like she’s looking or even wants anyone, anyway.

But the slight had stung, surprising her with how acutely she felt it. Hell, she hadn’t really felt much of anything since Montgomery and that was eight months ago.

Thank goodness for the start of the semester. No idle time to even dwell on it. She’s got a big course load this semester, trying to finish off her second major and between class and working, there’s not much time for much else.

Go to class.

Go to work.

Go to sleep.

There’s eating and a shower between but still…it’s not until the weekend that she sees Kelly.

“Hey, I forgot we were roommates,” her friend teases. “Long week?”

“Very,” Liz says, dropping into the freshly cleaned couch and yawning. She casts an appraising glance around and cringes. Their house looks like a hurricane hit it—clothes and books, binders, paper and random stuff strewn all over—like basically two people coming-and-going in a hurry. There are a pile of dishes in the sink along with pots and pans…it’s a wreck.

Kelly looks around too. “This is bad,” she says. They’re not messy people, but neither are the clean freaks yet this…is a step too far.

Liz starts laughing.

“I guess its cleaning day.”

So they do.

They’re in the midst of straightening the living room when something occurs to Liz.

“Isn’t there a game today?”

“Yeah, but it’s an away. James isn’t here.”

“No wonder you’re being so helpful,” she teases. Kelly smiles, then gets serious.

“Have you heard from Travis?”

“Huh?”

At the puzzles look Liz gives her, Kelly continues. “James says he told Travis to call you. He gave him your number,” she explains.

“Nope.” Liz shakes her head. “But there’s nothing I want to hear from him anyway.”

“Cut him a break, he lost a game—threw an interception. And I’m sure he was bummed about it.”

“I get it, but he didn’t have to be rude to me.”

“I thought you two looked cute together on the couch. Ya’ll were bonding or whatever. I don’t think what he did was intentional.”

“Well, intent or not. I’m going to take it for what it was. So again, no, he hasn’t called.”

They go back to cleaning.

 The next week is about the same level of busy, but this time they do a far better job of keeping the place clean, but now, Kelly’s good mood is vanishing and she’s becoming cranky.

“What’s your problem?”

“I miss James.”

“um…he’s 15 minutes away.”

“Yeah, but the weekdays are rough. He’s up early. In late.”

“Well, ya’ll have weekends, what’s the problem?”

But she already knows what the problem is, and can’t help but to snicker at Kelly who shoots her a dirty look.

“Whatever Liz. And he’s gone this weekend too—another away game.”

“Aw, poor Kelly. What will you do without your boo?” Liz says mockingly. But inside, she’s a bit…jealous. It’s nice to see her friend in a good relationship for once. And for the first time since she and Montgomery broke up she thinks maybe it could be time to…see what else, or who else is out there. Because as much as she acts like certain things don’t bother her…she has started feeling kind of lonely lately.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The first ring.

The second.

The third.

The fourth.

“You’ve reached Elizabeth Dubek. I can’t come to the phone right now…”

Travis hangs up without leaving a message. It’s late—Thursday, and he figures she might be asleep or something. Or worse…maybe just not answering because it’s him…

James might be right, he thinks bitterly. He probably did blow it. The disappointment he feels surprises him. He’s been trying not to really think about it—but now that he decided to actually call and to not get an answer…it feels a little like rejection. A feeling he’s far too acquainted with and one that never, ever gets easier. Especially when he knows he screwed up…

A vibration on the desk catches his attention.

The phone.

It vibrates again and he sort of stares at it.

On the third one, he picks it up.

“Hello?”

“Hi…I missed a call from this number?”

Her. Liz. She called back.

He shifts the phone to the other ear and sits on the edge of his bed.

“Hey, Liz. It’s Travis.”

Silence, and then an “oh. Hello.”

She’s not making it easy and he swallows hard.

“Um…I just wanted to apologize to you for the other week.”

“It’s okay.”

He tries not to be dissuaded by her flat tone. He remembers movie night, how he’d wanted to kiss her at the door but didn’t and she’d looked surprised and disappointed after the game—his fault, right there.

“I want to make it up to you,” he tells her. “Are you doing anything tonight?”

“Uh…nothing right now…”

Hesitant.

The plan’s half-formed but he goes with it.

“Look, can we talk? In person? I don’t…I don’t do well like this.  Have you had dinner yet?”

“Sure…and no, I haven’t,” she says haltingly.

“Okay. Can I come over?” He asks.

.

.

James walks through the door of their room right as Travis is putting on a fresh shirt.

“Where are you going?” He asks.

Travis had planned to just call an Uber, but…

“Hey, can I cash in one of the favors you owe me?” He asks.

“Uh…sure…” James eyes him, “what do you need?”

“I need to borrow your car.”

James holds up a hand. “I’ll say yes on one condition.”

“What?”

“ _Where_ are you going?” He says grinning. Travis rolls his eyes.

“Can I get the car or not?”

James’ laughter follows him out the door. But he’s got the keys. And a blanket, and a candle rolled up in his backpack.

A quick stop at Subway for two sandwiches and he pulls up to Liz’s house a half hour later.

It’s pushing 10:30 and the neighborhood is dark and quiet as he walks up the driveway and rings the bell.

 After a moment, the door opens for him and it’s Liz.  She’s dressed in a tank top and sweat pants and her hair is braided in two long pigtails. It’s cute, he thinks, immediately liking her nighttime style.

“Come on in.”

He follows her inside and takes a look around. It feels like forever since he was here, and its been nearly two weeks.

She settles down on the couch but he shakes his head, already knowing what he wants to say to her, and also knowing Kelly’s home. Travis isn’t interested in having his words parroted back to James and he definitely doesn’t want to listen to the yard of shit that comes with that. Plus, it’s a warm night and Liz has that nice patio.

“Can we go outside?” He asks.

“Sure.”

 She gets up and he follows her through the sliding doors and outside. The patio is lit with small decorative lights and he takes off his backpack and unzips it, pulling out what he brought.

“What are you doing?”

“You said you haven’t eaten,” he explains, still working away at laying it all out for her. “So I brought you dinner.”

The blanket is unfolded and laid on the ground under the tall tree also decorated with lights, and he takes the candle from the bag and puts it in the middle, lighting it. The sandwiches go next along with the two bottles of water.

Liz watches, transfixed.

It’s warm outside but her skin is tingling with something akin to…excitement? Nervousness? Anticipation? When he’d called earlier she was skeptical, unsure of what he wanted and when he apologized she hadn’t quite bought it. Him asking to talk was… surprising, but still she had doubts he’d show up but now he’s here and doing something completely unexpected yet…

Charming.

It catches her off-guard, just as she thought her mind was made up. Travis sits down and she comes over, settling down next to him, under the tree.

They’re quiet as they eat.

“I should have asked what you wanted,” he says as she picks the pickles off her sandwich.

“No. I appreciate it. I eat basically anything. Just…not so many pickles.” Liz makes a face and scrunches her nose. He smiles and she does too.

“So, why’d you come over, Travis?” she asks, trying to break of up the quiet that’s blanketed them once again.

He finishes chewing and takes a sip of water before he speaks.

“I didn’t mean hurt your feelings the other week.”

“What makes you think you did?”

“Well…James…”

 At that, Liz chuckles. “Let me guess. Kelly told James I was mad at you?”

“Something like that.”

She ponders it. “I was.”

He looks at her, surprised by the candor. “I’m sorry.”

But Liz shakes her head. “Stop apologizing. Nothing to really apologize for.”

“Yeah, there is. Look, Liz...I want to make it up to you.”

“Oh? And how will you do that?”

When he answers, it’s not with words.

 The gentle kiss that lands on the corner of Liz’s lips catches her off guard, making her shiver.

As he pulls back, he thinks he made a mistake. Liz doesn’t move and he immediately tries to back track it.

“My bad, I thought --” But it’s his turn to be surprised when Liz leans over and gives him a kiss on the cheek, and reaches for his hand, threading their fingers together.

“No apologies,” she says softly, looking at him. “I liked it.”

They spend the rest of the evening sitting outside, talking.

“What’s your favorite book?” He asks.

“Hmm…It’s between Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights?”

“Gothic romances?” Travis looks at her. “I thought you were going to say something like the Autobiography of Malcom X.”

“Stereotyping now?” Liz teases, and he has the decently to look slightly abashed. She laughs. “Don’t worry, I don’t do political correctness. I’ll let you know if you cross any red lines. What about you? Favorite book?”

“More like an author.”

“Who?”

“uh…” He’s not sure he should confess it, there’ve been a few negative reactions to his choice reading material.

“Come on, tell me,” she needles him until he says it.

“I like Rand.”

“Oh!” Liz studies Travis a moment, and, upon looking at him, and their interactions so far, she thinks she gets it. “Individuality, self-reliance—those themes, right?” She asks.

He nods. “Have you read her?”

“I read a lot. I’ve got her books on the shelf. I love to read—even stuff I disagree with personally. But she’s a great writer, and I really enjoyed Rearden and Dagny. I thought it was a great love affair.”

“So you’re a romantic?”

“I don’t think I’d fall into that category,” she says. “I’m a sucker for tragic love stories.”

Travis grins, enjoying the way this is going. What he assumed about Liz -- he’s pleased to find -- is very, very wrong. She’s got certain ideas—not all he agrees with—and when they start to slip into the very taboo subjects of politics and religion—it’s there when stuff gets thorny.

“We will never get 100 percent of anything,” she declares, “I mean even ‘full employment’ is measured by a 5 percent unemployment rate so its ridiculous to set policies that make blanket statements like “complete, and whole. There’s always going to be someone that just doesn’t want health insurance. There’s always going to be someone that just doesn’t want to, or cannot work. I get the philosophy, but I think it’s wrong.”

“Yeah, but on the flip side—what happens to those who can’t? There’s universal rights—health, food, housing…”

“Again—there’s always going to be those who reject it.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean it cannot be offered.”

They go on like this, back-and-forth. Sometimes Liz takes the conservative view. Sometimes he does. Sometimes, they’re reversed. But she’s genuinely loving it. He is too. Soon, they’re both standing, pacing around talking loudly and even start yelling their arguments at each other. It’s only then they catch they catch themselves, and laugh together.

“You’re good,” he tells her. Debate team captain or something?”

She shakes her head. “My family likes to fight about this stuff all the time. Get in where you fit in, or get left out the conversation.”

That makes him chuckle. Rarely has he had conversations like this. And with a girl, no less. He feels..refreshed.

James is out cold by the time Travis gets back to the dorm room, so he just leaves the keys on his desk before crashing on his own bed, thinking about Liz.

 


	8. Chapter 8

“So, how’d it go?”

James is probing as they’re loading the bus the next day to head to the airport. But Travis won’t say a word, just shrugs.

“Oh come on! What time did you get in last night?”

“You were sleep.”

“Well, did it work? Did ya’ll…talk?”

He makes air quotes.

“We exchanged words.”

“Don’t be so uptight. I was only trying to help you out. So, a truce exists?”

“Something like that.”

“Fine. Have it your way,” James says, throwing his bag under the bus before climbing on behind Travis.

He shoots a text to Kelly.

.

.

“Travis was here? Last night?” Kelly’s voice comes through on the phone and Liz immediately regrets picking it up.

She’s trying to finish up a story, sitting at her desk in the newsroom. Other folks are working away—either typing up stories, or talking to each other, or on the phone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, still working away.

“Bullshit. Travis was here. Did you guys fuck?”

Leave it to Kelly to just throw it out there.

“NO!” She hisses, thinking now is a good time to leave the newsroom. A few of her colleagues look at her. Once outside, “Did he say that to James?” she asks, horrified. “He told him we had sex?!”

“No, no, no! I just thought—you know, since he was here…”

Ugh. Damn Kelly again.

.

.

They win the third game, and this time, Travis is a damn good mood. Such a good mood, he calls Liz right after.

“Hey.”

“Hey you. You sound happy.”

“We won.”

There’s a smile in Liz’s voice when she speaks again.

“Congrats! When are you guys coming back?”

“Probably around 4 in the morning.”

“Ew. That sucks.”

“It is, what it is. But, are you…free tomorrow?”

At that, she feels a flutter in her stomach.

“Yes.”

.

.

Sunday is a…date.

A real date.

 There’s a nature museum in town, and Travis and Liz agree to meet there.  She insists on picking him up but Travis is resolute. He doesn’t want her driving them around and he’s become skilled at the art of timing public transportation. Between that and Uber, it’s easy. But the real truth of it is…it makes him uncomfortable—the idea of her chauffeuring him because he doesn’t have a car. He doesn’t have a lot of things, and he thinks, sadly, that maybe he’s pushing his luck with this. Because Liz obviously isn’t wanting for anything and him...well, he wants for a lot.

But he likes her. And she likes him, and that counts? Right? This date counts for…something.

By getting there early, and a little sleuthing, he’s managed to find some good discounts, and he’s got the tickets in hand when he sees the white SUV pulling up in the gravel lot across from the main entrance. It’s an outdoor museum, tucked among big cypress trees with Spanish moss dangling from them, the ground mostly sand. And the buildings on the site are built as log cabins, hearkening back to the areas frontier and Spanish-influenced history.

“I’ve never been here,” she says, looking around as she walks up. They embrace. Just a quick hug before he guides Liz inside the main lodge. There’s a gift store on the left with stuffed snakes and alligators—very Florida, along with reproductions of Spanish coins and other wares. The little, white-haired lady wearing a blue shirt, khaki pants and a kerchief smiles at them as she takes their tickets and gives them a map. They leave the lodge and walk right into an early 19th century reproduction of an early Florida town, complete with live animals—goats, cracker cattle, chickens and ducks—all just strolling along. It’s a little petting zoo, and Liz is so busy looking she doesn’t notice when a curious baby goat comes up behind her. Until she feels the tug at her shirt.

At first, she thinks it’s Travis and looks up at him, but he’s grinning wide, his eyes crinkling the sides and holds up his hands.

“Not me.”

Then, she looks down and jumps away. The baby goat lets out a little bleet and scuttles back too, looking at her with big wide black eyes. She was startled but laughs too, as she bends down to pet it.The little ears go back as she tickles under its chin and it looks so cute and happy…

“Now I see what I have to do to win with you,” Travis says watching Liz play with the goat. And he can’t help but feel some type of way. He’s glad she likes animals, because he does too. When he was little, he lived on a farm—a big one with lots of cows. He remembers the cows, at least. But maybe it wasn’t so big? Maybe it’s just that he was little…His eyes are hot. A startling reaction. He hasn’t thought about that farm in a long time. And it doesn’t matter anyway. All of that is long gone…

Eventually she stands back up, grinning, but when Liz looks at Travis she sees he’s not smiling anymore and looks a little…distant.

“Hey. Are you alright?”

He shakes it off quick and gives her a half-smile.

“Yep. Fine. So, where too? Or do you want to stay here with the kids?”

Because now more baby goats are starting to flock their way. Liz looks at him a moment, wanting to say something else…do something, but Travis has pulled out the map and is looking at it so she takes a glance too. There are multiple exhibits: white-tailed deer, Florida black bears, bobcats and panthers, an aviary—even a snake pit. That makes her shudder. There’s also an alternative nature trail that winds through all the exhibits, a longer walk, for sure, but…

“Do you want to do the trail?” She suggests. The boots she’s wearing are comfortable and Travis nods. They set off in the direction, and first come across the aviary. It’s like walking through a large cage in the middle of a forest—and they stop, looking around and trying to spot what they can.

“Hey, an eagle,” Travis points in the direction of a tree and Liz leans close and toward the direction, squinting.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Look, closer,” he puts his hands on her sides and gently moves her into position in front of him and sure enough, when she looks, she spots him. Right there, perched on a tall branch at the top of the tree.

“Wow, I didn’t know they were so big.”

The bird turns then, and seems to look directly at them, before letting out a squaw and flying off, the wings nearly twice the length of its body.  It’s a beautiful bird, she thinks. Very regal.

They keep walking the aviary, catching sight of spotted owls and even a vulture. Once out, they continue, and Liz stops at another exhibit marked “visiting animals”. This one is water based, featuring a fairly large pool surrounded by rocks and smaller bushes. Inside, a family of otters play. There’s a male and female adult along with two babies, all plump and small and furry with big eyes with round bellies. Liz stops to look.

“They’re so cute,” she says.

Travis watches her with amusement. Liz is curious about everything—stopping to read all the markers, taking in all the animals and she’s smiling and happy, the elation clear in her face. It’s so pure, he thinks smiling softly, watching her go from exhibit-to-exhibit, as he follows.

There’s a long, winding wooden bridge that carries them across a semi-flooded marsh in the middle of a cypress swamp, and he’s impressed. The water is like dark glass, reflecting their faces below, and its still, save for the small ripples of fish and insects. Above them, white squirrels jump across the canopy. He spots a bench and goes to it. Liz follows. They settle down for a moment, and just listen. The gentle lapping of the water, the cries of the birds…the hum of the insects. It’s all nature sounds, and for the time being, they’re alone, overlooking the water.

Her fingers find his and she rests her head on his shoulder gazing around them.

“This place is beautiful.” It comes out in awe. He nods in agreement. It’s his first time here, too and he knows it’s a place that he’d like to return. This is peaceful, and quiet between them is warm. Neither speaks, but they continue to hold hands.


	9. Chapter 9

Liz is smiling when she gets home. And when Travis calls later that night, she smiles harder.

In fact, she’s still smiling Monday. And they text back-and-forth the rest of the week. It’s week five, for them. Five weeks since their friends conspired against them.

  
“Good morning.” His message greets her when she wakes up.

“Hello to you too.”

J

*hugs*

It goes on like this. Both of their weekdays are crowded, and this is the next best thing.

  
“How was your day?” She asks.

“Long. Yours?”

About the same. I got stuck reporting on a murder.”

“WTH?”

“Don’t worry, they covered the body.”

“Um…are you serious or joking?”

“J/K”

“What?!?!?”

“They left the body out.”

“The hell, Liz?”

“It was an open-casket funeral.”

“Lmao. You are a twisted woman.”

And Tuesday.

Wednesday.

Thursday.

Friday.

“Are you coming to the game?” Travis’s text comes in early Saturday in the morning. The buzzing of the phone is what wakes Liz. She rolls over and seeing it, picks it up and texts back.

“What time does it start?”

“3:30.”

The hottest part of the day. But this is a rare Saturday that she has off, and so Liz texts back.

“Yes. I’ll be there.”

Saturday rolls around and Kelly is in her room picking out various things.

Liz has been cagey about her date last week with Travis, not saying much just that they “had fun and talked” but Kelly’s not dumb. She’s seen Liz subtly texting and James has said just as much on Travis’s end. They’ve been comparing notes and have both concluded that between Saturday and Sunday…well… _something_ changed. And they’re glad, because watching their friends be miserable has been depressing. And as much as both Liz and Travis would deny it, James and Kelly know it’s true.

Now, they’ve made a bet. Exactly, when, where and how it will go down.

“I am _not_ wearing that,” Liz says, arms crossed as Kelly holds up a pair of ingloriously short shorts. “I don’t even know how old those are! My ass would be hanging out.”

“That’s the point. Duh,” Kelly rolls her eyes. But Liz holds her ground. “Hell no. It’s not like we’re at the beach, and those stands are metal and they’re HOT. I’m going to have grill marks on my butt.”

Kelly breaks down in laughter at the mental image and Liz does too. After a while, they calm down and Liz goes to a drawer, pulling out more acceptable white shorts and an off-shoulder peasant blouse that cinches in the back. The shoes are a pair of red, high-wedge _Tom’s_.

“What about your hair?” Kelly asks.

“I was just going to leave it,” Liz says, fingering the long braids. But Kelly shakes her head at the pigtails. Liz looks like a five-year-old.

“Sit down.” She commands.

Liz does, and Kelly undoes both braids before twisting Liz’s hair around her head. “Hold this,” she commands, giving Liz lock of hair before darting off coming back with bobby pins. Once finished, Liz gets up to look.

“Oh! Good call.”

 It gets her approval as she admires the crown twist that Kelly’s nimble hands have styled.

“Now, are you doing any makeup?” Kelly asks.

“No. I wasn’t planning too.”

Liz hates makeup. It’s itchy and when it’s hot, it’s an absolute mess. But Kelly talks her into at least putting on eyeliner and lipstick. She settles on a reddish-purple lip.

“Oooh, sexy.”

“I’m trying to be comfortable.”

“Um hm… sure you are,” Kelly says. Ready?”

She is and they go.

 And when the team comes out, and numbers five and 55 appear, Liz and Kelly cheer harder.

At halftime, the game is tied, and the stands are once again rocking as the music blasts over the PA system, and the rival schools band plays.

They boo accordingly, and when their school’s band takes the field, a hush falls, as the drum majors slowly stroll onto the field. The first sound are the blare of the trombones, and soon, it’s a music show and everyone in the stands, including the rival team’s fans, are dancing and singing along.

And it’s enough to get everyone ready for the second half.

By now, Travis has been playing the entire game and the offense has tightened up significantly from the first go…he hasn’t taken one hit and on the next drive, even runs the ball for the first the first down.

The clock starts ticking down, and by the end of the 3rd quarter, they’re up by 14. The other team has only been able to secure a field goal.

Liz and Kelly are excited.

Fourth quarter.

 A late hit causes the team to lose 15 yards. There’s a loud groan in the stands. But there’s still 7 minutes left and ideally, the plan would be to run out the clock. But the penalty on the third down play now makes the situation worse—the team has further to go, leaving their opponents with more opportunity. To wrestle the game away.

The coach, a tall burly man, throws his hat on the ground and pacing the sidelines, barking angrily into a headset.

On the field, Travis is in the huddle, and a receiver runs up to them with a play and a message. He nods curtly and turns back into the group.

“Alright ya’ll. Coach is pissed. We need to calm the fuck down. Keep our heads. All we need is to run the clock out, win the game. Go home. Fuck your girlfriends. Got it?”

They break and take their positions on the line of scrimmage.

Travis barks out the cadence at the line of scrimmage.

“Ready! Blue 16! Blue 16! Set….hut! Hut!

“At the snap of the ball the cracks of the helmet and pads can be heard. As Travis drops back, he looks to his left as a feint—causing the defense to react in that direction. Once they’re distracted he quickly turns and throws to a receiver, with several linemen blocking in front of him, creating a screen of protection.

The receiver doesn’t waste any time taking off at a sprint—weaving his way up field, carefully picking the running lanes his blockers have created for him. But to his horror, he sees a safety lining up. He glances to the sideline and seeing he only needs three years to a first down, he makes a quick decision.

Putting his body on the line, he initiates the hit with the safety. The force of the hit makes his body ring like a bell, starting from the top of his head, down his toe nails. But at least, he got the down.

The crowd goes crazy and his teammates come over to congratulate him on securing a fresh set of downs. That means, they’ve got hell of a lot more time to run out the clock.

And that’s exactly what they do.

.

.

The game is a near shut-out, 27-3, and Liz and Kelly wait until the stands are mostly clear before making their way out, leaving the band heads to revel in the unofficial 5th quarter with the opposing school’s ensemble.

Over by the field house, it’s a scene. Everyone’s happy and pumped up, family and coaches are gathered near the home field bench, under the goal posts. Reporters are trying to interview players and someone has already tossed the Gatorade. The team is now 3-1, with a three-game winning streak, the first in a few years. And even though last year was the first official “winning season” going 6-4, the atmosphere is jubilant. Liz overhears the sports reporters barking questions.

Kelly manages to find James in the bunch and he scoops her up in a big hug, twirling her around. She makes a face when he puts her down.

“You stink.”

He laughs and gives her a kiss. “That’s what victory smells like, baby.” She jumps as he slaps her ass.  They’re busy canoodling when Travis finally escapes the throng and walks up, helmet off and hair sticking up all over, still in pads.

But this time, instead of scowling, he’s happy.

“Hey, you made it.” He gives her a quick kiss on the cheek and she sniffs, and marvels.

He just finished playing two and half hours on the field and yet…he still smells like fresh soap. How the hell is that even possible? It should be a crime for a man to sweat so good.

“Sorry. I need a shower.”

At that, she laughs.

“Tonight,” James says, arm wrapped around Kelly’s waist—we party. I’ll drive. Pick you two up in a few hours?”

“Of course!” Kelly says, happily.

“Is that okay with you?” Travis asks. “I know you don’t like parties.”

“Are you going?” She asks, cautiously, remembering what happened after the first game.

“Only if you do,” he tells her.

“Enough of that,” Kelly interjects. “Travis, you’re going. Liz, you are too. Now come on. Let’s go changed. See you guys around 10?”

“Sure,” James tells her, stealing another kiss.

Travis doesn’t kiss Liz though. Instead, he takes her hand.

“See you tonight,” he whispers.

She nods and goes off with Kelly.

 

\-- _This chapter co-written by “AquaSoulBro, aka Aqua’s husband (he says to mention it was only the football parts)._


	10. Chapter 10

True to his word, James pulls up in front of their house at 9:45 p.m. Travis is in the passenger seat but he gets out and opens the door for Liz and Kelly. They scoot into the back.

It’s 10 by the time they arrive but when they do, Liz’s good mood drops, and she starts to feel…nervous. Because she knows exactly where they’re at.

The Kappa house. The last place she thought they’d be and the last place she wants to be.

Both Travis and James come and escort them out the car. James and Kelly start walking into the party, but Liz hangs back.

“What’s wrong?” Travis looks at her, and, seeing the almost paralyzed look in her face, takes her away from the house. They stand on the curb a moment.

“I…uh…” she hesitates. A year after that break up and she’s still angry that Montgomery can hold this kind of power over her.

He waits, quietly. She’ll talk when she wants and he’s not going to push her.

 After a moment, she gathers herself.

“My ex is probably in there.”

“Ah.”

An ex. He hadn’t really thought of that. But whoever he is, Travis is glad there’s “ex” in front of his name.

“Do you just want to go home? We can.”

“We can go in,” she tells him. “Besides, James is our ride.”

“Uber,” he says. “We don’t have to stay here.”

“Yeah, but Kelly is likely to get wasted.”

James too.

Liz stands on her tip toes and kisses Travis’s cheek, the whiskers on his beard tickling her skin. His hair is growing out, and she thinks she likes it. He looks a little wild.

“We can go. I’m fine. Thank you.”

He laces his fingers through hers, and they walk up the drive and into the house.

It’s already loud when they get in. And it’s full of people. There’s a DJ in the corner and every so often above the fray, someone will make a call and other members of whatever fraternity or sorority will respond. Travis guides them through the crowd and eventually, they find the “bar”, which is really the kitchen. A little less crowded, but not by much. Liz learned a long time ago not to drink anything out of the giant tubs of liquid with floating fruit pieces and red cups in them for scooping. She eyes it warily, knowing it’s laced with at least five different liquors. She remembers when she was still with Montgomery—watching he and his frat brothers make the “punch” they called it, and witnessing the after-effects of it later. People throwing up all over the place.

Drunk, she thinks, is an understatement.

“Do you want something?”

“Something with a closed top,” she yells to him, over the music. He nods and disappears for a moment before resurfacing with two beers in hand. She takes hers and pops the top—quickly taking a sip to calm her nerves. No sign of Montgomery so far, and it’s a relief.

James and Kelly are somewhere in the throng and they both figure the two will be found later, so they focus on themselves, slowly weaving through people in the outer edges of the room where its less crowded, as they try to make their way outside to the back yard. But as they go, Liz accidentally bumps into another woman.

“Oh! Sorry!” She says as the woman turns around. It’s Quanda, who looks at her—then to Travis and back to Liz, smirking.

‘Oh hey, didn’t expect to see you here.”

“We came with Kelly,” Liz explains, getting the sense that this could be a problem. She and Quanda have never been friends, just acquaintances and she’s only ever been civil when Kelly is around. Now though, there’s no civility.

“Huh.” Quanda looks pointedly at Travis, and noting he and Liz are holding hands, she smirks. “So you’re slumming now. Hey Travis, check in with your social worker lately?”

Liz is too shocked to respond in the moment, and it gives Quanda time to slip away. Travis pulls at her hand.

“What was that about?” She asks.

“Come on. Don’t worry about it,” he says.

But it’s enough to make her initial unease about this party come back in full force. They find a corner and go there and Travis turns Liz around and wraps his arms around her, pulling her close and burying his face in her hair.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why she said that.”

But Travis does.

“You know Quanda too?” He asks.

“She’s friends with Kelly.”

“Then Kelly should pick new friends. She used to date a guy on the team…,” Travis says, then debates whether to say more.

Quanda did more than ‘date,’ but when she approached him, he’d flat out told her he wasn’t interested. _That_ had turned out to be a mistake. Because he found out quickly Quanda was vindictive. She worked in student accounts and somehow found out his situation and proceeded to tell her boyfriend, who had told their teammates, leaving Travis in a bad spot. She’d also told her boyfriend Travis had tried to sleep with her, which caused more than a few problems until it finally got settled through James and a few other members of the team who told the guy what he was dealing with.

He decides to leave it. For the time being.

No sense in dragging up old stuff. Especially when there’s something new in his arms. He and Liz find a corner, outside of the crowd, and that’s where they stay.

Liz is laughing, dancing on him, nothing provocative, but it’s fun. She’s teasing, trying to get him to dance, and eventually he does…awkwardly. She giggles, watching his fumbling attempts.

“It’s okay! You don’t have to dance with me,” she says.

“What? Am I embarrassing you?” He teases back, with an hilariously bad attempt at the robot.

She’s laughing, and they’re in their own little world, and no one is paying any attention to them. So they think.

.

.

From across the room, one person is watching. And he definitely doesn’t like what he sees.

Montgomery, the fraternity’s chapter President, is glaring angrily.

“Bro, leave it alone,” one of his brothers says casting a glance in the direction he’s looking. “It’s just a girl. And that guy is nobody.”

But it’s not just a girl, he thinks. It’s _his_ girl. His Liz. And what the fuck is she doing with _that_ guy?

He watches as Liz throws her head back and laughs, and he can’t help but remember when she laughed for him. But it gets to be too much when she’s pulled into that guy’s arms, and he kisses her…and it’s definitely _not_ a friendly kiss.

Gradually, the music is starting to change.

And so is the mood in the room.

 _Fuck that,_ Montgomery thinks to himself as he starts to make his way over.

There’s no way in hell he’s going to stand by and be disrespected in his own house—and by his ex-no less, and especially by her fucking around with the lone white boy in the room. He’ll never hear the end of it. This shit is embarrassing.

.

.

_He loves me, especially different, every time…_

Jill sings to them as Travis wraps his arms around Liz’s waist.

“Dance with me, some more?” He asks, voice deep. Low. “I promise I’ll do better this time.”

She flushes, and smiles, feeling his body against hers. It’s nice. Warm, the embrace firm, but not too tight, and when he lowers his head to talk to her, his beard brushes against the side of her face, making the skin there almost vibrate with the sensation. She tingles.

_You keep me on my feet happily excited  
By your cologne, your hands, your smile, your intelligence…_

God, she feels good. So soft in his arms, a perfect fit, the top of her head tucked under his chin and all he wants is to keep holding her like this, and not let go because to let go would mean to give her up, and he’s never met a woman like her—a woman among girls and she’s so far above him, he still can’t quite believe this is happening, but it is and for the life of him he can’t figure out _why_ him, of all people…

Her hands slide over his arms, her fingers finding his and he realizes she’s embracing him too. To try or not? Move ahead or not?

“Travis?”

“Hm?”

She weighs it. The way he’s holding her right now, makes her feel protected and safe. Wanted. Desired. And…sexy. In a way she hasn’t felt in a long, long time. Even now, he smells so good, and she leans back into his touch, inhaling his scent. Masculine. She doesn’t know what it is…but what she really wants is to _taste_ him…

“Kiss me.”

He does as asked. Liz turns to the side and he lowers his head. Their lips find each other. And soon, more than lips. She can taste the beer in his mouth, the flavor of his toothpaste, the brush of his beard, and….more than that…

She moans, quietly against his lips.

He groans as she moves against him, and he knows damn well she knows what he’s feeling. It’s…apparent. He pulls her tighter as she shifts against his body, setting everything on fire. Slowly, his hands slide down her back, her sides, her hips…

 _You woo me, you court me, you tease me, you please me_  
You school me, give me things to think about  
Invite me, you ignite me, co-write me, you love me, you like me  
Incite me to chor-us…..

They’re drifting. A quiet exploration of each other. He stops thinking. She does too.

A tap on her shoulder breaks her out of the reverie and she looks back, and freezes. Travis looks up too.

Montgomery stands there, watching both of them, unsmiling.

“Who’s your new friend?” He says, ignoring the guy she’s with while staring down Liz.

 _Shit,_ he thinks as he looks at her, _she’s fucking gorgeous._ Liz is in a dress, something short that shows off those legs and thighs of hers. Her hair is braided around her head and she’s not wearing makeup—something he’s always loved about her. That natural beauty, effortlessly sexy and she didn’t know it—or if she did, didn’t flaunt it.

It’s been eight months since the breakup—his fault, he knows. He got greedy, arrogant after he became President. She’d been there when he pledged, fed him when he was tired, loved him and bandaged him after he’d crossed…but when he became chapter president, everything changed. And when she caught she found out he cheated, no amount of ‘I’m sorry’ brought her back. Quanda wasn’t worth it. Yeah, she did stuff Liz wouldn’t…but that just satisfied his curiosity. And when he awoke to see Liz reading the texts… he already knew she wasn’t about forgiveness. The only grace was he had the decency to not put Quanda’s name in his phone.  

She didn’t know who, and she never asked—placing the blame solely on him.

Travis’s arms are still around her, and her back is against his chest—his presence is steadying as she faces her ex-boyfriend.

Liz is about to speak when Travis does.

“I’m Travis. And you must be irrelevant.” He knows this is the reason Liz didn’t want to come in and he’s not going to stand here and be ignored like he doesn’t exist. Nor is he going to allow someone to try and intimidate him, or her. He’s a lot of things, but a coward isn’t one of them.

Montgomery looks at him and starts laughing.

“Yeah, whatever man. Hope you like leftovers,” it’s mean and has the intended effect—the look of anger in Liz’s face gives him a bit of satisfaction. “Didn’t think you’d downgrade, babe.”

“The only time I ever did was when I dated YOU,” she hisses. “I’m sure you have plenty of…candy,” she tells him. “So I know you aren’t interested in mine. Bye, Felix.”

The music is still going, and most of the crowd is oblivious, but the few people closest to them have stopped moving at stare, waiting to see what goes down.

Liz turns away from Montgomery and slides her hand into Travis’s and they walk away, leaving him standing there awkwardly as they make their way outside and into the backyard.

Once there, she exhales and wraps her arms around herself, flushed with fury, embarrassed and feeling…humiliated all over again. It’s not the first time she wonders how she ever could have been with him. Montgomery’s true colors are out—and she wishes she wouldn’t have wasted two years on him in the first place.

“Hey, you okay?”

Travis is beside her and he tries to take her hand but she pulls it away.

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. That’s your ex?”

She nods, bitterly and he tries again, this time pulling her in a hug, rubbing her back.  He can guess at what she must be feeling. Yet, as far as Travis is concerned, ex’s are just that. The past. Montgomery doesn’t scare him—it’s clear there’s nothing left there, on Liz’s part, at least. Whatever Montgomery did to ruin their relationship, is his problem, Travis thinks. And his loss.

“It’s okay,” he whispers to Liz. “I’ve got you.”

 “THERE YA’LL ARE!!!”

They jump apart right as Kelly damn near falls on Liz, draping her arms around her, and James comes stumbling over to Travis.

“I think we’re fucked up,” he slurs, and Liz thinks it’s an understatement. Both James and Kelly are red eyed and wobbly, barely on their feet and…

“I don’t --” Kelly doesn’t finish the sentence before she starts throwing up, right there, on the ground. The people around quickly jump back to avoid getting it anywhere near them. Liz looks at Travis and he looks at her.

Party over.

“Time to go,” Travis says, coming up under James’ arm and helping to steady his friend. They start moving toward the opening in the fence, and Liz grabs Kelly’s arm and starts guiding her too. They manage to get their drunken charges into the car, and climb into the front seats.

Travis drives them all back to her house, while Liz is on the lookout for “accidents.” The worst thing is trying to get puke out of a car, and the smell lingers forever.

They pull up to her house and Travis shuts the car off as she gives him her keys so he can open the front door. James is still semi-conscious, but in the ride back, Kelly has fallen asleep.

“Kelly, wake up,” Liz is shaking her, but aside from a moan, Kelly doesn’t move.

“Here, I got her,” Travis says, coming back. “Let me get James in first.”

James is still stumbling and using him like a crutch, but Travis manages, half-walking, half-dragging James to Kelly’s room and depositing him on the bed. James flops back. “Thanks man.” Still slurred. He’s out before Travis takes the first step out of the room.

Next, comes Kelly. Liz helps maneuver her toward the car door and Travis just picks her up and carries her inside, laying Kelly next to James. Liz takes off her shoes and brings in an extra blanket, covering the two with it, before she and Travis leave.

“Should we close the door, or leave it open?” He asks looking at them. James has splayed himself out across the bed and Kelly is laying across him.

“Leave it open,” Liz says. “We may need to herd them if they go wandering around drunk.”

He nods and they stand in the hall, somewhat awkwardly. Montgomery had ruined the mood, and now that they’ve got James and Kelly situated, Travis is unsure of what to do, or even how to proceed. He doesn’t want to pressure Liz and he thinks she’s probably still upset about earlier.

“I guess I’ll come back in the morning,” he starts to turn away but is interrupted when Liz pulls him back and her lips find his again.

The kiss is warm and sweet-- and his eyes slip closed as he pulls her against him, and her hands wrap around the back of his neck, stroking him there. It feels good. More than good.

And when she uses his tongue to trace his mouth, his hands slips further down, raising her dress, and sliding up the back of her bare thighs. She says his name as he presses against her.

Asking permission.

Her hands slide down his chest, feeling the muscle there and into his pants, tugging at his belt.

When he feels a hand wrap around his dick, it goes hard immediately, and he knows there’s no going home tonight.

They’re mouths don’t stop even as Travis surprises her with his strength as he picks her up and carries her down the hall, closing the bedroom door with a foot before setting her down on the bed and following her there.

Shoes come off. Socks. Shirt. Dress…Pants…until she’s bare, laid out before him. It’s the first time he’s seen her naked, and he can only stare...

 _Goddamn_.

Her breasts are small, but firm…the peaks dark and those legs are curvy, a tiny waist, sexy hips and thighs…He’s hit with the overwhelming desire to run his tongue down her skin and taste all of her.

It’s been a long time, probably too long, but worth the wait because right now, the way she’s looking at him, biting her lip, he just wants to replace her teeth with his own.

Liz shudders as Travis comes over her, and she can’t help but to admire as he brings his body on top of hers, the hairs on his chest stimulating her nipples making them hard. And when she feels his mouth on her breast, the sensation makes her gasp, and arch into his touch, his lips on one, a large hand squeezing and needing the other…

The sounds she makes are intoxicating, and as he begins to make his way down her body, Liz starts to writhe…

“Shhh….” He whispers, putting a finger to his lips, looking up at her as he gets both arms around her legs, pulling them apart roughly and sliding her down. It’s the last thing she hears before he spreads something else too, his head disappearing between her thighs.

She shudders, arching back, her hands trying to push him away as he teases her with his tongue.

“Travis…” Liz gasps, and squirms against his mouth and he smiles to himself taking another long pass while watching her face. He’s still holding her legs open and they shake when he slides his tongue inside and starts to sex her with it.

She gets wetter, trying and failing to quiet herself. But her chest is heaving from uneven pants and as he keeps going, she can feel the pressure building, and building until he takes her right to the edge, and starts to suck on her, pushing her over it.

 _Ahhh…_ The climax is so strong it brings her off the bed and she sits up abruptly trying to push Travis off, before falling back, a shaking, trembling mess. He kisses the inside of her thighs, his beard soaked from her orgasm.  

“Ready baby?” A little nod and when he dips his hips and gets the head in, it makes her wince wrap around him. He sees it and stops,  and taking her hand in his and lacing their fingers together, together and gently kissing her face, her neck, her chest…

She moans his name.

“Baby, I’m here,” he groans as she clings to him, a hand on his back, her legs wrapped around his, her sex drawing him into her body.

The rhythm he sets is slow…but he can’t hold it there for long. The sounds Liz is making coupled with the feel of her hands on his body slowly start to drive them forward as his tangle in her hair. She holds on to him, keeping his skin close to hers.

.

.

Kelly groans and rolls over, semi-conscious and vaguely aware they’re not at the party anymore. Beside her, James snorts and snores.

She thinks she hears a faint moaning sound…a soft thump….then another…and another. The moans continue…low…muted… _Thump, thump_ …. _Thump, thump…_

The rhythm lulls her back to sleep.

James stirs—he can’t tell if he’s dreaming or awake…there’s a knocking…he thinks…

Thump, thump…thump, thump…Thump…thump… thump…thump…

“Someone get the door,” he mumbles, rolling over, and pulling Kelly closer.

 


	11. Chapter 11

The morning light makes her wince.

The sound of retching is what finally forces her to open her eyes, and when she does, she regrets it.

The pain comes suddenly, making her close her eyes and groan as she pulls her knees up to her chest.

“You too, bae?”

James’ voice is hollow, hoarse, as he comes wobbling back to the bed and collapsing next to her.

“I feel like shit,” Kelly laments.

“Last night was overkill,” he agrees.

They lay there, in companionable misery, trying to get their lives together.

There’s a rustling sound outside, muted voices, hushed laughter.

“Who else is here?” Kelly mumbles, trying to block the sun with an arm over her eyes.

“Dunno.” James says, doing the same. His body fucking hurts. Retching with nothing coming up is only making it worse. Maybe he shouldn’t have been in a hurry after the game. Maybe he should have done what Travis did and take that damn ice bath and post-game rub down, cause man….is he feeling every single one of yesterday’s hits.

 “How’d we get home?” He asks Kelly.

“I don’t know. Liz?” She says, opening one eye to look at him.

From the living room, the laughter again. Muffled words…followed by….

They both sniff at the same time and immediately start salivating.

“MMMM…..Bacon….”  It’s the smell that finally rouses James from the bed, and he stumbles, bracing against the wall to steady himself. Last night’s liquor is still hanging around and he already knows the only cure for hangover is to get something solid in his stomach.

Reluctantly, Kelly gets up too. They’re both still dressed and come stumbling out the room, only to be shocked into sobriety at what…or…who is in the kitchen.

Liz.

And Travis.

He’s shirtless, arms wrapped around her waist as she cooks at the stove, wearing only his t-shirt. Travis lowers his head and says something in Liz’s ear. They can’t make it out but Liz giggles, turning her face to the side for a kiss.

It’s a very long, very _suggestive_ kiss. Travis’s hands slide down her body and begin to lift the shirt revealing wayyy too much as he presses his body against hers…

 “Oh fuck!”

At that, they spring apart looking embarrassed, like kids caught stealing cookies--identical guilty faces at James’ exclamation.

“Holy shit, they did and they were!” Kelly says, momentarily forgetting her headache in the excitement of the discovery.

“What?” James looks at her.

“They were fucking last night!”

“No, we didn’t!” Liz defaults to denial but Kelly shakes her head and starts laughing as Travis tries and fails to keep a straight face. But his sheepish grin gives them away.

“Whatever,” she says “I know the sound of a headboard hitting a wall when I hear one. And I definitely know what sex sounds like.”

.

.

Kelly is wrong. They absolutely did not “fuck” last night.

Liz kisses Travis goodbye at the door, and he nuzzles her, his beard tickling against the side of her face making her smile as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, her fingers stroking the back of his neck, which she now knows he likes.

“Stop it or we go back to the bedroom,” he murmurs into her ear.  

“Get a room,” James says. Kelly rolls her eyes. “You owe me,” she tells her boyfriend. “I won the bet.”

James and Travis go, and they wait until their backing out of the drive before closing the door.

Kelly stretches. “I need a shower,” she says, still wearing last night’s clothes. “These smell like cigarettes and beer.”

Better go then,” Liz tells her, walking back to the kitchen to clear the table.

Afterward, she goes to her bedroom and sits down on her bed….reflecting.

Even now, her body is still…tingling with lingering arousal and she shifts a bit to find a more…neutral position. The bed is still unmade, and she’s still snuggled in Travis’ t-shirt, his scent all over. The sheets. The pillows, the shirt. On her.

What she wants is to just yell, feeling as if she’ll jump out of her skin at any moment, but instead, she turns to what she knows. Writing. It’s been a long time since she made use of her journal, but now feels like a good opportunity.

_Journal,_

_I feel the need to talk to someone who can keep secrets. I love Kelly, but we all know how she is. Yesterday our team won their third straight game! I know I’m not a sports fan, but…I’m starting to be…well, no. That would be a lie. I am a fan of one person in particular. Travis._

_I like him. And I feel as if he feels the same. I think he does. I…hope he does. He says he does and …that counts, right? What he says? I should believe him, right? I really want to believe him. I hope I can. We’ve been…talking, with each other for weeks now. And last Sunday was our first date. It was lovely. We went to the nature museum and he laughed as I ran around like a child at Disney World for the first time._

_Admittedly, I wasn’t that bad, but still…he was an absolute gentleman. In fact, he always is. The first time we were together, a few weeks ago—a movie night here—he was funny. Engaging. And God…that man smells divine._

_That’s what he is…a man. There’s something about him that sets him apart. I can’t place it—there’s a worldliness…a …weariness? Almost? Sometimes, there’s an air of sadness, but it comes and goes…maybe it’s the romantic in me, always hoping I’ll find Heathcliff. Too many gothic romances._

_But last night, journal….last night was everything. He made it clear he wanted me, and I wanted him too. It was time. And there was opportunity…am I wrong for taking it?_

_We kissed for the first time. And they were the sweetest kisses. Even now I still taste him on my lips, my tongue, thinking about the way his felt on mine. He put his mouth to good use!_

_He was very gentle and he kept saying, “Baby, I’m here” and to be frank…it felt right. PERFECT. His touch, his kiss…everything…soft and caring._

_Nothing like Montgomery. In fact, Montgomery who?_

She stops writing when Kelly busts into her bedroom. Liz snaps the journal shut, but she’s not fast enough to hide it away.

“Ooh…writing a love letter?” Kelly teases, jumping on the bed next to Liz and reaching for the book. She snatches her hand away as Kelly grabs for it.

“Stop it! You play too damn much,” Liz barks clutching her book close to chest and for the moment, Kelly looks suitably abashed.

“I’m sorry. It’s just been so long since you looked…happy,” she tells Liz.

“You and Travis look cute together.”

“Thanks. I’m…” she thinks on it a moment. There’s a fresh swell of lust that shoots straight between her legs as a flash of last night comes back. Liz squeezes her legs together…

“Content,” she finishes.

“Mmm hmm…content. Well, Glad you’re ‘content’” Kelly says, making air quotes.

Liz gets silent and Kelly needles her, just a bit.

“So….was it as good as it sounded?” She asks, half-asking, half-joking. Because hell, if there were two people in the world who needed a release…Liz and Travis would be at the top of the list.

.

.

“Soo…feeling better?”

They’re barely in the car before James starts asking away, quieting long enough to get to their dorm room and then, once the doors are closed, resuming the interrogation.

“We weren’t doing anything,” Travis says, lamely, and he really can’t help the half smile on his face, as he flops down into his bed.

“Right. Walls are thin nowadays. I’m glad Kelly said something ‘cause I thought I was dreaming.”

James is snickering at him, but Travis is resolute. He’s never been the type to do a play-by-play and besides, what happened between him and Liz stays between him and Liz…

“Nothing.”

“Didn’t _sound_ like nothing.”

“Fine. None of your business. How’s that?”

“Ah hah! Dude, I TOLD you that’s what you needed! See? Hell you even look more relaxed. Oh hell, don’t give me that look…”

James sees the smile quickly fading as Travis’s eyes dart over to him, the blue beginning to darken. He holds his hands out in a peace gesture.

“Fine! I’ll stop, just….

Congratulations for quenching the drought.”

He ducks as Travis throws a shoe at him. It hits the wall and bounces off.

James laughs as he lays back in his bed.

Took Travis long enough.

.

.

Her “nap” is restless. It’s restless because she’s…having cravings. The guys left that morning around 10 and its 2 p.m., a rare, lazy Sunday and she figured she’d just sleep but…

Her phone buzzes and she picks it up, seeing the name.

“Hey you.”

“Hey. Miss me, yet?” She teases back.

“I do, actually….” Travis says, in a way that makes her body starts to hum…

“Do you want to…come over?”

“Be there in 20.”

He’s there in exactly 15. Liz opens the door, still wearing his shirt, and he wraps an arm around her, kissing her as he walks her backward to her bedroom.

The door shuts.

This time, it’s the floor. This time, she uses a pillow to muffle her cries. This time, his fingers lock with hers and he tells her exactly what he’s thinking—that what they’re doing now, is making a commitment. That he’s got no intention of going anywhere, and Liz nods, wrapping her free arm around his neck and pulling him against her body as he spreads her thighs and her legs come up around his waist.

“I want you to know something,” he whispers into her ear.

“What?”

“I wasn’t all the way in…the first time.”

He says it as he goes all the way in this time, sliding across every single nerve ending down there and sparking an orgasm so strong it makes her whole body shake. The scream gets caught in her throat.

It’s slow, but intense…and he doesn’t stop until she comes again, with him this time.

They fall asleep together, wake up, and repeat for the rest of Sunday.

In the other room, Kelly slips on headphones.

“They’re fucking again,” she texts James.

Smiley faces come through on the phone. "Kinda figured that’s where he went,” he texts back in return.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_Journal,_

_Here I am, back to you because, you are the keeper of my secrets._

_I wonder if it is love, or lust? And how does one tell the difference?_

_God, I feel so…conflicted about even putting this in writing. But…after Sunday…I don’t know if I’m ready for what all Travis has to give. I’m not afraid of him…in fact, I want more of him…but I’m afraid of what that want—that raw need—means._

_Love, or lust? Are we in one, the other or both?_

_I’m afraid of my reactions, my body’s reactions. Uncontrolled. Visceral. I’m not used to not being in command of my own self, but what he did…what we did…I know I wasn’t prepared for it. But how does one get prepared for something like that? Journal, you know who I am, what I’ve done…_

_I’ve never felt so vulnerable, and it frightened me. Excited me._

_Reckless….that’s the word I’m searching for._

_Travis showed himself to me, last night. And I will not deny that he hurt…at first. When he said he wasn’t all the way in the first time, I didn’t understand, until he showed me. He made me scream. Not even with Montgomery or the “others” did I ever experience pain. Is this what virgins feel?_

_Considering I never really was one, who knows? All I know is that it hurt, but he kissed the pain away. He made me scream then made me moan then made me orgasm…I have never orgasmed…I didn’t even know I could._

_This is…insane. Maybe we need to slow down. Back up. Catch our breaths, and try to figure out what the hell we’re doing._

_But I don’t really want to. I want to go… faster…._

_._

_._

Travis misses his 8 a.m. class. And he’s 20 minutes late to the 9:30. The door creaks at his attempts at subtlety, and all eyes are on him as he makes his way to the nearest available chair. The professor calls him out on it.

“Glad to see you joining us, Mr. Fimmel. Please, take your time. We’ll wait.”

He cringes, but decides not to feed the troll, instead, squeezing his long frame into seats made for people several inches shorter and smaller than he is. Most of the chairs on campus are made this way—the aisles between rows in the lecture halls cramped, the tiny, folding desks far smaller than they need to be. There are a few other athletes in this class and they all know—this particular professor despises the kids on the extra-curriculars. Travis himself has had trouble before, and this professor has told all of them point-blank that no, he will not repeat lectures, that if they miss work on days with excused absences, figure it out for themselves. That he’s not making notes available online or in any other form.

At first, the man had tried to reject their university-approved absences, until the administration told him he had too, and that students were allowed to make up their coursework. Travis had tried to avoid this professor, and it had worked—for the first two years. But it just so happened that this semester, the one class he needed was the one taught by _this_ guy.

The lecture continues, and afterward, he makes arrangements with a guy on the basketball team to get the notes he missed.

“I’ll walk them back over tonight,” he says, grateful for the assist. There’s a test Wednesday.

A quick trip to the cafeteria, and once he’s done eating (alone as usual), it’s off to the fieldhouse.

There’s only a few others in the weight room when he arrives. Not too crowded. And he’s got A LOT of nervous energy in need of burning. A quick change, and he goes to the treadmills to start a warm up.

The system is up to 6, incline set to high and he’s just starting to break a sweat when one of his teammates comes up to him. Mark, a sophomore and red-shirt freshman.

“Hey Travis, can I talk to you for a minute?” He asks, glancing around the weight room. The few other guys that are there all have on headphones, paying no attention.

“Yeah, hold on.” Travis lowers the incline, and reduces speed. “What’s up?” He asks, when he’s at a walking pace. But Mark shakes his head.  “In private,” he says.

Travis shrugs but acquiesces. It’s an unusual request but, so be it. He stops and follows Mark out of the weight room and into a classroom. When the doors close, the sophomore turns to him, looking antsy.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Uh, it’s about your girlfriend,” Mark says. “Liz.”

“What about Liz?” Travis leans against the wall, crossing his arms. A defensive posture but still. Something’s up, and he knows he’s not going to like it – especially because Mark has gone through the trouble of taking him out of his workout.

Seeing Travis’ posture, Mark holds up his hands, in a peace gesture. “Look, it’s not my place, but you’re my friend and I want to warn you. You know I’m pledging Kappa,” he says and Travis nods. They all know. Out of all of them, Mark is pretty much in shambles—lack of sleep coupled with the rigors of hazing will do it—and they’ve been covering for his bad performance all season.

“I heard the president and some of his friends talking—about you. About Liz. About the party. I don’t know your girl, but I know they don’t like whatever you two are doing. Just, watch your back, okay?”

It’s not exactly what he expected, but Travis takes a while to even speak.

“What were they talking about?” He asks, looking at Mark with suspicion.

“I think they’re planning something,” he says nervously. “They were saying some pretty fucked up shit.”

“About Liz?”

“No—about you. They mentioned you by name. I guess the president—his name is Montgomery—I think he used to date her or something. I’m telling you this as a friend Travis,” Mark says, noting the way Travis is looking at him—like he’s weighing whether to believe him or not.

“Montgomery hates you, man.”

.

.

It’s a chaotic week, another away game. The only time they get together is Thursday night—the team is leaving early Friday morning.

“This is harder than I thought it would be,” Liz says, running her fingers through the hair on Travis’ chest. He’s laying on his back, an arm around her, her leg draped over his.

“Not ideal,” he agrees. “Does it bother you?”

“A little. But…” she looks up at him. “I think you’re worth it.”

He smiles, taking one of her long braids in his fingers, and slowly beginning to undo it. She giggles.

“There will be more time for us in the spring,” he tells her. “No football.”

The reward is a kiss on his nose.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

In the morning, she drives him back to campus, and takes the time to walk with him down to the stadium. The bags are loaded onto the bus, and there are a few others hanging around—mostly girlfriends saying goodbye.

He takes Liz’s hand and kisses it, then kisses her forehead.

“I’ll be back Saturday night,” he whispers against her lips.

“You’ve got this,” Liz says.

He’s the last of the players to get on the bus, and is greeted by cat calls and wolf whistles.

“That you, T?” Barker, one of the safeties, calls from the back.

He grins, self-consciously, but nods in acknowledgement before climbing in the chair next to James.

Someone starts clapping and it becomes a chorus.

“Does she have any friends?”

“Hey!” James now. “Her friend is taken, too!”

A group laugh. Travis gets a few slaps on the back.

.

.

This is the biggest game they’ve played. Ever.

A “money game” it’s called, supposedly to generate revenue for the smaller school. But he’s played these before and Travis is critical. He doesn’t think the dollars are worth the end result. Rarely does the school in the smaller division ever win. He disagrees with the scheduling, even though their coach has tried to talk them up—“a chance to see how you measure up” he’d said.  “Competition makes you better. You’ve got to play better competition to _get_ better.”

It has never convinced Travis of the worth of such games.  And he’s been on the losing side enough times to know such games can be crushing, physically, mentally and emotionally. He got over it long ago, in fact, he knew going in that these were part of the contract he signed. And that’s really all his scholarship was—a contract—an agreement to play in exchange for a set amount of money to cover his education. He is under no illusions about what his job is.

They’ve gotten murdered the past two years in these games, this is the first of two. The school they’re playing is a Big 10 powerhouse, several national championships—a likely contender for another this year.

He’s just preparing himself. It’s going to fucking _hurt._

.

.

At the end of the first half, he’s got 198 yards passing, two touchdown passes and in a fluke play, one of the throws had deflected off the running back at the goal line. Luckily for him, his receiver was in the perfect position to catch the ball for a touchdown.

They’re down 21-14 at halftime, and in the locker room, there’s a sense of hope and swelling confidence, a belief that they can pull off a major upset.

The team is split—offense and defense. The coordinators and head coach address each squad separately, laying out the game plan for the second half.

“Travis,” the offensive coordinator tells him. “You’re playing well. Stay focused.” Together, they go over plays—what worked, what didn’t…where he feels comfortable throwing, and toward whom.

Strategically, they work on minor adjustments to the plan.

“We had a few near misses,” Travis says. “We almost had three picked off—their receiver is fast. We can’t out-run him.”

So if they can’t out-run the receiver…maybe it’s time to neutralize him all together.

Victory is sweet.

24-14, and they’re all going crazy in the locker room.

They pulled it off. An ugly win, for sure, but a win is a win, and they’ll all take it. An upset no one saw coming.

He and the rest of the team captains are surrounded by reporters, asking questions a mile a minute. The flashbulbs are bright, shining in their eyes, and he answers as best he can, as humbly as he can, but he’s grinning still, and James comes and jumps on his back, damn near knocking him down.

 “Travis that was an amazing game, when did you know the offense was starting to click?”

“Pretty sure it was clicking from the get-go.”

“In terms of your career, what’s it like being the underdog and managing to conquer Goliath?”

“I think we came to do a job, and we did it.”

Eventually the scrum starts to die down a bit but everyone is still clearly riled up and Travis steals a second to slip off, to the back of the locker room, and call Liz.

Its 7:20 p.m. when the phone rings and she catches it on the first one, hearing an absolute cacophony of sounds that make her pull the receiver away from her ear.

“Hello? Hello?”

“We won!!!” Travis. Shouting above the fray.

“You won?! Oh my God, we won! Kelly!!!” She runs to the living room, and interrupts Kelly, whose cooking.

“They won!”

“They what?!” Kelly is equally as excited too! Is that James?” She steals the phone.

“James?”

“It’s Travis, hold on—there’s more noise, and then James comes to the line.

“Babe? We won!!”

The squeal is so high it makes Liz cringe, followed by a rapid fire of “I love you’s” that, is equally as corny.

“Can I get my phone back, please?”

“Oh! Sorry, Liz. Jay, when will ya’ll be back?”

“Tomorrow. Here, I gotta give this back to Travis,” he tells her.

Liz takes her phone back.

“Holy shit,” she hears him marvel. “I still can’t believe it.”

“I’m happy for you,” she tells him, sincerely, fresh excitement blooming. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

This time, when the team gets back mid-afternoon Sunday, there’s at least 300 people waiting for them at the stadium, including the university president.

There’s a speech and celebration and then they’re swept up into the crowd. The school’s pep band plays during the un-official rally. In the fray, Kelly finds James, jumping into his arms.

Liz and Travis find each other and he pulls her close, giving her a long, deep kiss. Around them, more cameras. Various media outlets mixed in. But he’s done with the questions. There’s something a bit more important to address now.

 They slip off, to her and Kelly’s place, and behind closed doors, they have their own, very private celebration.

When James and Kelly come in, the house is mostly silent…save for the sound of a headboard hitting a wall.

.


	13. Chapter 13

.

**Chapter 13**

The win ends up making local, state and national news. Photos and clips of the team are everywhere, on repeat. It’s James that tells him, since he doesn’t really follow the news, nor watch TV all that much.

“Dude!”

“What?”

“Man, turn on LeBatard—right now!” He says. “They’re talking about _you_.”

“Did you guys see that QB they had? Fimmel? Man, that arm is vicious. And the rush game—rarely do you see that kind of talent—there’s an arm but no run, or a run and no arm. He’s got both…watch this guy. I’ma call it—if he plays like that the rest of the season—he could be a serious NFL contender.”

“That’s just talk,” Travis says, once the segment is over. James looks at him as if he’s lost his mind.

‘Man, that’s Dan LeBatard—the man knows his shit. He’s one of the BEST sports guys in the country. If he says you could…”

But Travis dismisses it. The NFL has never been his goal. Stuff like that isn’t for guys like him. Besides, his goals are far more achievable. And he’s close to them. Close to making it. One more year of football. Three more semesters. A degree. A job. Reality, not fantasy. He’s not one of those guys to get his hopes up on pipe dreams. Too many athletes do, only to realize the game isn’t for them in the end.

.

.

It only gets crazier as the week goes on. Suddenly, it feels as if everyone on campus knows his name. He’s not used to this, and it’s…jarring.

So is the…other kind of attention that’s coming along.

The same women who wouldn’t give him the time of day are now the ones that are approaching. And he really doesn’t know what the hell to do about it, or with it, except—try not to be rude.

 But that’s easier said than done—because he swears they’re at the practice field, in damn near all of his classes…the café.

His phone rings. And he squints—not recognizing the number.

“Hello?” He answers cautiously.

“Hey babe.”

 The voice is vaguely familiar but he can’t quite place it.

“Uh, hi….can I ask who this is?”

A feminine laugh. “It’s Katheryn. Or did you forget about me, already?”

Katheryn. His ex. Shit.

“Sorry—you changed your number. Didn’t recognize it. How…are you?” He asks, cautiously.

Damn. Inviting conversation. Maybe what he should have asked is why she’s calling? Why now, when she’d dismissed him unceremoniously six months before.

Katheryn laughs. “I’m fine. And by the looks of it, so are you. So, how’re you holding up?”

“I’m alright.”

It comes out kind of tense. But he’s on guard. She’s manipulative, he remembers. Still stung by what she’d told him when she realized what he was.

“Hey, don’t have to be defensive. I was just calling to check on a friend.”

This time, he rolls his eyes, and just goes for it. “What do you _want_ , Katheryn?”

“Well,” she drawls it out. “I wanted to know if there’s anything I could…do, for you? I’ve missed you, Travis.”

“I doubt it. And the answer is no.” On that, he’s sure. And sure enough, Katheryn becomes the person he knows her to be.

“You’re still mad at me? For real, Travis? _I_ wasn’t the one who lied.”

“I didn’t lie. But you tried to use me.”

“Please,” she scoffs. “You had to know better. “

He hangs his head. He did. He knew girls like her didn’t go for guys like him and so he had tried his best—doing everything he could to pass in her circle, until he just couldn’t anymore. It got to be too much. Too expensive. She was bleeding him. And when he finally told Katheryn the truth, she’d bailed. Looked at him like he was less than nothing and broke it off, laughing at him.

That was the worst part—that she’d laughed and promptly kicked him out of her apartment. Their schools are less than a mile away, but the walk back from her campus to his felt like the longest of his life. And that, with the added humiliation…even now, the memory is singed across his heart.

So this…no. He doesn’t trust it. Doesn’t trust her. He learned that lesson the hard way.

“I’ve got a girlfriend,” he tells her. She goes silent.

“I hope she knows what she signed up for,” Katheryn says sweetly. “Bye, baby.”

He quickly realizes while he may have gotten rid of Katheryn for the moment, the same line doesn’t work with the growing number of women who have somehow learned his name between last week and this one. If anything, some become even more determined. And so does he—to avoid them.  

By Friday, he’s on the edge.

“Hey superstar.”

Travis groans. “Really, Liz?”

She laughs. “What’s it like being the most popular guy on campus?”

“I miss my anonymity,” he tells her, honestly.

The win means the team is now 4-1. But it has also meant that what little free time he thought he had, isn’t there anymore. There have been meetings with the coaches, meetings with school administrators…hell, even a meeting with his social worker—who had raised concerns about any potential for profit which would lower his state-issued stipend. That’s his livelihood, and Travis can’t afford a decrease. He’s barely getting by on what he’s got now. It’s required a letter from the NCAA to explain to the woman that college athletes don’t earn income and that he can’t possibly profit…he could lose his scholarship, get booted from the team…

A headache, is what it’s become. A major fucking headache.

He just wants it to be over. Or, not over exactly, he wants to win, but…he wishes his name wasn’t every fucking where right now. So many people with so many demands…

The smile in Liz’s voice fades into something more serious. Worried as she hears the rawness in his voice.

“Hey, I was just joking. Need an escape?”

He does.

 A way to just, get away. If only for an hour or two.

“Then let’s escape.”

He doesn’t even protest when she texts that she’s downstairs in the parking lot. Normally, he hates it when she drives them around but…

“Where are we going?”

“To a hotel,” she says. “Alone time.”

A hotel.

Blessed isolation.

They check in and get their keys, and ride the elevator to the 14th floor.

It’s a nice hotel, recently remodeled in the center of downtown and when the doors close, he’s surrounded by silence, and a great view of the city below—the lights from the houses, restaurants and cars twinkling below.

Liz is standing near, looking out at the view as well.

“It’s pretty,” she says.

He nods, coming to stand behind her, pulling her against him in a hug.

“Thank you.” He kisses her on the cheek as she relaxes into the embrace.

There’s no sex. Instead, he tucks Liz into the curve of his body, and they fall into a dreamless, deep sleep. It’s the first good sleep he’s gotten since coming back.

.

.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” Liz looks at herself in the mirror, slightly unsure. It’s Game Day and she’s now wearing Kelly’s idea.

“He better. I showed mine to James last night.”

She frowns, not thinking about running it past Travis first.

Seeing her nervousness, Kelly works to reassure her.

“He’ll love it, Liz. The guy is crazy about you. He’s not even looked sideways at any of those girls, and I already told you what James told me—you’re the first woman he’s ever seen Travis with. So why wouldn’t he like it?”

They’re both dressed in matching, fitted football Jerseys. Kelly is sporting number 55 with Hollinsford written across the back. Liz has on number 5, with Fimmel. Both are in fitted jeans with over-the-knee boots. Kelly’s are heels; Liz has opted for flats. But she does admit, they both look great.

 It’s the start of November, and the weather is starting to cool down. This game, she’s decided to wear her hair loose and straightened, and it goes past her shoulders, down her back.

“I really think you should do it up,” Kelly says. “No sense in going three-quarters of the way. We’re going to win, today. Trust me, the sex will be AMAZING.”

At that, Liz flushes.

She’s not made a habit of talking about her sex life with Kelly and she’s not going to start—no matter how much her friend prods.

“It’s still kinda hot,” Liz hedges, but Kelly shakes her head. “Not that hot. Besides, I’ve seen your collection. Just wear the BB cream, and use the setter. Lips and eyes. It’s not like you need much, anyway.”

Liz relents, and it goes on. And when she takes a look in the mirror, she cannot help but grin. Kelly is too, nodding approvingly.

“Uh huh…told you.”

“Okay. Maybe you’re right,” she gives herself an once-over, knowing she looks good. Better than good really. It’s been a long time since she decided to get this dressed up. Since she really wanted too, but…Travis deserves her best.

They had checked out of the hotel that morning, and she’d kissed him goodbye at the dorm, knowing she wouldn’t see him again until later tonight. It’s the way it is, and she’s slowly coming around to being…okay with it.

Liz and Kelly arrive right before kickoff and take their seats in the group of Kelly’s friends.

Quanda is already there and seeing Liz, abruptly turns to another of her friends. Liz ignores her. She still doesn’t know what that crap was about at the party, but she knows enough to know Quanda is messy, and decides to avoid her at all costs.

Liz hears the humming first.

Then the first few strains of the words.

The final straw comes when the group behind her start singing. Loudly, and she knows she’s the target.

 _He needs some cool tunes_  
Not just any will suffice.  
But they didn't have Ice Cube  
So he bought Vanilla Ice.  
Now cruising in his Pinto, he sees homies as he pass.  
But if he looks twice  
They're gonna  KICK HIS LILLY ASS!”

There’s emphasis on the last four words, followed by raucous, hysterical laughter, and it follows Liz as she gets up abruptly, leaving Kelly to her friends and goes to sit a few rows down. The anger makes her shake, and she bites her lip to keep from saying, or doing something she knows she’ll regret.

She can’t believe it…intellectually she knew people could be assholes, but she didn’t think she’d ever really have to deal with such ignorance and foolishness and what she really wants is to just cuss them all out, but it wouldn’t change anything, and when it comes to Travis, well…her mind is already made up. It was made up when Kelly talked her into wearing the jersey and if she is being completely honest-- it was made up on their first date.

When the team takes the field, she cheers with the rest of the crowd. And when Travis makes a touchdown pass, she stands and claps and screams his name.

The stadium is packed. The press stands are packed. Normally, it’s just students and the football boosters, but this game looks like a homecoming game—and that’s still a few more away. Everyone and their grandmother and their crazy aunt Barbara is here and they’re all crammed in.

Since last week’s win, the team has become the hottest ticket in town.

Travis is steadily moving the team down the field, making sharp quick passes and rallying them back to the line of scrimmage. The pace is fast. Keeping the opposing team in motion and when he can’t pass, he rushes, racking up yardage. It’s the first blowout victory of the season, and afterward, Liz doesn’t wait for Kelly before moving out of the stands and toward the field house.

“Where’d you go?” Kelly asks when she finally catches up to Liz. “I look around and you disappear. Why’d you leave?”

“Because I don’t have time to risk my future people whose opinion doesn’t matter,” Liz says, dismissively. “No offense, Kels, but next game, I’m sitting elsewhere.”

Kelly gets quiet, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Liz, I didn’t know she was going to do that.”

“Yeah, well…now you know what you’re dealing with,” Liz says, still slightly bitter about the whole scene, but also determined not to let it ruin her good mood. Her boyfriend won. Her team won. And that’s what matters.

They’re waiting again—along with friends and family. This game, the number of people outside the fieldhouse has grown. And there’s an even larger group of girls gathered too. All the ranks are starting to swell, she thinks, as more people jump on the bandwagon.

Eventually, team members start leaving the locker rooms, in ones and twos, engulfed by their supporters. James comes out, and a small gaggle of the waiting girls go to him, but he deftly avoids the advances, and goes to Kelly.

Still, Liz waits.

Travis is the last to come out—and when he does, there’s really only her…and the majority of the female gaggle. She hangs back as he’s surrounded, and seeing the slightly panicked look in his face, decides to go in and help him.

In all honestly, she was waiting to see what he’d do. And his reaction—or rather, his rejection of those women, has made her happier.

With a slight saunter, Liz steps into the fray and walks up to him. Seeing her, he looks immediately relieved and pulls her close and into a kiss.

“Is this for me?” He says, catching a look at her jersey.

“Do you like it?” It’s slightly bashful, unsure, but Travis makes her happy when he kisses her again.

“Mine,” he whispers in her ear.  

The word is low, raspy as he slides a hand down her back, stopping at the base of her spine. She grins against his shoulder. Around them, others stare.

“Time to go,” he says, taking her hand and steering them away from the stadium. He left some stuff over at Liz’s place, and there they go.

He likes this. Loves it, really, seeing Liz sporting his name and his number. It’s some deep, primal shit—tapping at his reptilian brain but damn if it doesn’t work, activating his instinct to just have her. As soon as the bedroom door closes, he picks Liz up and throws her across his shoulder, making her giggle as he carries her to the room.

“I didn’t know you’d like it this much,” she teases as he drops her on the bed and covers her body with his, his face in the crook of her neck.

“Let me show you how much I love it.” Travis’ tongue is hot and wet against her skin, his touch making Liz tingle all over.

Her boots zip up the sides. And he makes quick work with his pants, and hers. Liz ends up on all fours, with her boyfriend hitting each spot she likes from behind, the fabric of her jersey wrapped in a fist. They’re absolutely not making love. Or having sex.

They’re loud, and make no attempt at any sort of discretion. When James and Kelly walk in, she covers her mouth with her hand and they decide it may be best to hang out outdoors for a while.

Cause Liz and Travis are presently fucking like animals and really…

Don’t no one want to hear all that.

.

.

He wakes up abruptly in the middle of the night, momentarily confused about where the hell he is. But it comes soon enough, when he looks down, and sees his girlfriend sleeping beside him, thick, dark hair fanned out around her. The sheets cover her chest, but he can still see each curve through the cling of the fabric, and she shifts just slightly, letting out a little moan.

It’s his conscience calling.

Not even his conscience really, more so his…insecurity.

Travis feels like an imposter.

He knows damn well if Liz knew his truth she would _never_ be with him. Katheryn made that clear. And he’s under no illusion that what they have now, it’s lust. He can only fuck Liz so much and keep her distracted for so long—things she hasn’t noticed. But eventually, he knows she will. And what will he do then, when she finds out? What will she say? He already knows.

This woman isn’t meant for him. Guys like him don’t get girls like her. Rich girls. Expensive girls. Pretty, pampered upper class girls who could date anyone, go anywhere, do anything because Travis knows, despite Liz’s insistence that she wants to be independent-- that she’s already several steps toward getting where she wants to be in life while he’s still playing catch-up. And he also knows that he’s got absolutely nothing to give her—other than what he’s giving her now, which…isn’t much.

She shifts and moans again, a slender hand reaches out—searching…

For him.

He smiles softly but as he looks at his pretty girlfriend, his eyes are sad, and he reaches over to brush her hair out her face, and lays back down within her reach. Liz snuggles close, attracted to his body heat, a curvy leg wrapping around his. She smells sweet-vanilla, and honey.

Her skin soft, and warm.  And there’s another smell too—his.

Maybe it’s not lust. But he’s not sure he’s ready to say it’s the other L.

Maybe it’s time for this thing they’re doing to end.

Travis knows he should end it, that it’s gone on long enough, gone too far already. But as he holds Liz in his arms, and kisses her forehead gently, and her body brushes against his, he knows he won’t do it. He’s too weak to do it.

His weakness causes him to yield, to kiss her…kiss her until slowly, she starts to kiss him back as he rouses her from sleep to roll her onto her back.

The weakness makes him spread her legs as he kisses her neck, her shoulders, her breasts…

And its weakness that makes him slide into her, lace his fingers through hers, and keep kissing her as he starts to move between her thighs—hot and wet and tight….he can feel everything. The way she quivers, the way she clenches, forcing him to groan, and whisper to her—all the stuff he knows damn well he shouldn’t be saying…but Liz is addictive, and he’s hooked, and she’s got him and…

He feels his orgasm starting, and for just a moment he considers pulling out, but he can’t—no, he doesn’t want too—so he doesn’t. He feels Liz’s climax right as his hits, and they both cry out…before slipping back into deep, dreamless sleep.

The cell phones read the time: 1:54 a.m.


	14. Chapter 14

She’s the first of them to wake, and after a trip to the bathroom, she slowly gathers their clothes off the floor. Her boots, Travis’ shirt, her pants and panties, his pants…

The Vans he was wearing last night have certainly seen better days, and Liz laughs quietly as she picks them up, noting the holes that go straight through the soles.

It must be a man thing, she thinks. Maybe she should tell him it’s time to buy new shoes.

His t-shirt goes over her head, coming to mid-thigh and she inhales the smell of it, like him--delicious and masculine and fresh, before checking on the man himself.

Travis is naked, blankets on from the waist down, his chest rising and falling evenly. He’s still knocked out and as she leans over to kiss his cheek he makes a little kissy face, so she puts her lips on his to catch them.

 _So cute._ She thinks.  It’s early, 7:26 a.m. when Liz grabs a pen and her notebook and slips out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Kelly’s door is closed too, and she knows James and Kelly are both asleep. They’ll stay that way until around 10 or so. Which gives her a few hours of me time.

 

_Dear Journal,_

She begins, after settling on the couch, legs tucked under and beginning to write.

_Maybe I should have started with, “Are you there God? It’s me, Elizabeth.”_

_What do you call it when all you want to do is stay beside someone, to live in them, on them?_

_When all you want is to hold them and be held by them?_

_When your dreams start to include this other person, and you can’t imagine your future without them?_

_Our conversations are so fluid, he makes me laugh, stimulates me intellectually—I love the way he makes me feel confused and terrified and excited…_

_I know it’s not just sex. That’s only been a few times. Most of the others it’s just touching. Holding hands. Hugs. Kisses. Affection. A different sort of intimacy. I feel like Travis is my partner and my friend._

_And I want to tell him everything…but I’m scared. And I know we both have secrets. I know there are things he hasn’t said, either. I can’t explain it, I can just…tell._

_I want him to know I’ll be there. That I’m not going anywhere. But I don’t want to scare him away—I feel like what we have is fragile, and I don’t want to break it._

_Maybe that’s the problem._

_Does he feel the same way about me that I do about him? We haven’t said it. But when he’s inside me, I can feel it._

_We steal the time when we can. And I’ve found myself carving out Saturday’s just to be there for his games. I don’t do sports. But I now do football. I know Kelly would say I do football because I’m doing Travis._

_But sex isn’t why we clicked. We clicked because he was an asshole. And I was a jerk. And we recognized that in each other. And it was funny. He made me smile. I made him laugh. So tell me journal…am I in love?_

 

She’s finishing the last sentence when a bedroom door creaks open, and she hears heavy footsteps walking down the hall. Travis’s long, arms wrap around her, and he kisses her cheek.

“Good morning.”

Liz smiles, and turns around on the couch and props herself up on her knees to reach him. They embrace. A sweet, good morning kiss. He comes around and settles beside her, and she puts her head on his chest.

Still early. Travis yawns, making her think of a big, lazy lion. His hair is sticking up all over.

“How’d you sleep?” She asks.

“Like the dead. You’re up early,” he tells her, glancing at the top of her head.

“Mmm….” She murmurs against him, closing her eyes as his hand rubs her back.

They sit in companionable quiet for a moment, recalling last night.

“Liz?”

“Yes?”

He wonders at it a moment, debates how to ask her the question, but decides against it. Maybe she’s got it handled. And why mess up something good? It’s not like they both don’t know what they’re doing. What they’ve been doing…or doing without rather.

“What’s for breakfast?”

She laughs and throws a pillow in his face.

“What are you trying to say?”

He grins.

“Cook, woman.”

It gets a haughty “humpf” as she crosses her arms and looks at him archly.

“How about you cook for me?”

James and Kelly are once again awakened by the smell of food, and when they stumble out of her room, this time, it’s Travis at the stove, with Liz wrapped around him on her tip toes.

“Dude, she’s got you whipped,” James quips, Only for Kelly to turn on him with big eyes, blinking slowly. Seductively.

“Do you love me enough to cook breakfast, bae?”

It’s how James finds himself in the kitchen next to Travis at the stove, while Liz and Kelly sit at the table sipping mimosas and laughing at them.

“Guess I’m not the only one,” Travis says.

James just shakes his head. The things they do for these women.

.

.

It’s the start of October and mid-season. The schedule is getting grueling. They’re away this week, again, and it’s another Division I Team. But they’re hot right now. And he’s not dreading this game as much as he did the first.

Normally, Travis is mellow, chill about these things, but as the team starts to get pumped up throughout the week, he does too. And this week, the team goes through everything. Studying their opponents tapes intently. Practice is amped up. They hit harder during the padded sessions.

What little free time is quickly taken up and they go damn near a week without actually speaking to one another—delayed responses to texts, missed calls. Their schedules are mixed up. She’s been covering more evening stories, and the one time they do manage to meet up: it’s at the cafeteria for a brief lunch. 

 “I need to focus,” he says, as he scarfs down the food: fried chicken with hot sauce, the collard greens and the seriously fabulous peach cobbler made by the little old ladies who always smile at him and give him extras. 

“Maybe I should be the menu,” Liz says drily, watching him eat. She has no idea where Travis puts any of it. He’s on his third plate.

“Huh?”

He looks at her, puzzled, and despite her annoyance, she laughs. She can’t be mad at him for long. Besides, she knows it’s only because they haven’t seen or really spoken to each other in days.

“Sorry, I’m just…missing you.”

Aw. This time, he takes a longer look at his girlfriend and leans over the table to kiss her.

“When I come back,” he says, and she nods.

Besides, it’s not like she’s alone in it. Kelly has been walking around looking equally as glum. So, Friday morning, they get up early in order to see the team off.

“Mufa,” Liz says, as they part from their embrace. “I want you back in one piece.”

Travis nuzzles her. “Yes, my Lovie.”

They rub noses, and hug again before he lets her go to get on the bus, ignoring the wolf whistles.

.

.

Liz and Kelly watch the game online, at home. It’s being televised, a rarity for an HBCU, but the football team has generated a lot of talk and this is the first televised game for the school in years, even though it’s on ESPN-U. The pre-game show is on, and the commentators are chatting away as the players warm up on the field. The cameras pan over to James.

“And Hollinsford, 6-4, 265 lbs. of raw power. He’s deadly. This is a man that’s averaging at least three sacks per game. Per GAME! Already he’s one of the MEAC’s leading tackles and we’re just mid-way through the season. Hollinsford is on track to break the college football record—that’s MEAC, SWAC, and SEC…all the conferences. This guy is something, let me tell you….”

Kelly beams.

“Go James!” She says, excitedly, gripping Liz’s arm tightly as the cameras get a close-up of him laying on the ground, going through a series of stretches and warm-ups.

“Listen, this is an underdog team,” the other commentator starts. “I mean, let’s be real. The guys they’re facing are bigger. Stronger. Faster. Rarely do you see these sort of lopsided match-ups come out with the underdog on top, but I gotta say, I’m rooting for them. Because everyone loves a story, and I think one of the biggest stories is their quarterback—Travis Fimmel. Who knew you’d have a talent like that lurking there? Fimmel is quiet, sort of unassuming in interviews, but when he’s on the field—he’s fast, he’s strong, he can throw…I put money on it now that he gets drafted.”

“Man you crazy,” the other commentator interjects. “I mean, Fimmel is good, but we’ve only seen what? Two games? I think, if they can manage to break even today—even come within a touchdown of this team, then maybe… _maybe_ the scouts will seriously consider him, but there are so many other QB’s way ahead, with resumes to match, who come from stronger teams….”

They argue back-and-forth and the commentary makes Liz sort of angry—the way they’re putting a price on Travis. It’s uncomfortable, referring to him more as a commodity than a person.

“They’re loving Travis!” Kelly says. “Oh my God, Liz, what if they really do it?”

“Do what?”

“What if they do enter the draft? What if our boyfriends turn pro?”

It’s so far-fetched, all Liz can do is laugh. “Has James mentioned it to you?”

Kelly shakes her head. “He’s more focused on ending the season strong. Has Travis said anything?”

“He doesn’t have to. You’ve seen the interviews. And we were at a hotel just so he could escape campus. Come on. That’s their decision to make,” she says. “But I will say what I don’t like—their more than just walking money signs. And I cannot stand the way these people keep referring to athletes as animals and dangerous— that’s so disgusting. Don’t they realize most of the guys playing are black?”

Another annoyance of hers. Ignorant commentary. And this broadcast is full of it.

“Stop shitting on the party,” Kelly says and mercifully, pre-game comes to an end. It’s kick-off time. And on the first drive, their team manages to score a 92-yard touchdown, shocking the shit out of the bigger school, the TV commentators, and likely, everyone who is watching the game.

.

.

The excitement is at a pitch and when the bus pulls up to campus Saturday night, there’s an even bigger crowd, reporters from every outlet—radio, print—even the TV reporters have brought out their satellite trucks and the guys are shepherded into the field house for interview after interview.

 People are shouting questions at them, and they’re all—including Travis—struggling to keep up with giving answers and figuring out who is who.

“Travis, where’d you learn to throw like that?”

“Uh…in school.”

“Did you train as a kid?”

“Not really.”

“What do your parents think?”

At that one, he just blinks…at a loss for words.

 The reporters get silent, waiting on his answer and he fumbles it. Badly.

“I guess they’d be okay.”

“Okay?”

 “Yeah. Uh…I---I’m sure they’re pleased.”

Several reporters exchange glances with each other and he just hopes they move on. Luckily, they do. And eventually, a university spokesperson shouts “last question”, which really means the final three—but it’s good. That means it will soon be over.

“That was crazy,” James comments as they’re walking out the door. “Those guys are nosey.”

“Yeah.” Travis agrees. His friend looks at him with sympathy.

“Hey, dude—don’t worry. They didn’t know better.”

But the victory has lost its luster. And he’s left feeling…hollow. Travis throws his hood over his head, and moves through the crowd, attempting to just slink off, until he spots Liz, looking out and looking anxious. He weighs it a moment—go to her, or just go to the dorm.

Not tonight. Tonight, he wants to be alone. But he does go to Liz. Her face lights up when she sees up, but when she tries to hug him, he takes her wrists in his hands and pulls them down.

“Not tonight. I’m tired.”

That’s all she gets before he walks away, toward the dorms, leaving her standing there, confused.

They’ve only been together two months, and some things are still off limits. There are still layers she hasn’t accessed, places she hasn’t touched. He’s locked her out. It’s not the first time, but it makes her doubt whether they’re in love…or just in lust.

And it makes her feel a little more than insecure.

She goes back to her car, alone and moves the present she bought for him to the back seat.

“Where’s Travis?” James asks when she comes back home, alone.

“In his room,” she says before going to hers.

James and Kelly look at each other.

“What happened?” She asks. James shakes his head. He thinks he knows, but it’s not up for him to say. That’s between Liz and Travis.

But later, when he gets a moment, he texts his friend.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he says. “Talk to her. She’ll understand.”

It doesn’t get a response.

.

.

Travis doesn’t call Liz until Monday.

And when she picks up the phone, her voice is flat. Firm.

“Yes?”

“Lovie…”

“What do you want, Travis?”

He knows he messed up. She doesn’t respond to his pet name.

“I want to apologize.”

“You do that a lot.”

Shit, she’s not giving.

“Liz, I just—“he’s trying to figure out what to say without saying the truth. “It’s getting harder, and I don’t like it—the spotlight, the pressure…”

“I get that, but you took it out on me, after YOU asked ME to be there!”

The rub. He did. He’d wanted her there. Had planned to go home with her, and then he left her…

“I’m—

“I know. You’re sorry. Bye, Travis.”

The dial done ends the conversation. And he groans aloud, flopping back on his bed, legs dangling off. Maybe he should have thought about that. Yes, he’s been moody but…he also knows the shit that turns Liz off. It’s happened before. After the first game. She’d been accommodating then, but he really doubts she’ll be so forgiving this time.

How the hell is he supposed to fix this?

She has got to know it wasn’t personal. That it wasn’t about her, it was about him…but…

James comes walking in.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asks.

“Liz.”

James smirks but chooses not to say more. Travis needs to fix this one on his own.

Travis tries calling Liz Tuesday, but she doesn’t answer.

He tries texting, but that doesn’t work either.

 Wednesday, he gives in.

“James,” he says hedgingly, hating himself for what he’s about to ask.

“Yes?” James fakes ignorance.

“I need help.”

.

.

“You haven’t told me where we’re going,” Liz says, as they drive uptown. This is a more residential area, away from the universities where the “locals” live.

“You’ll see,” Kelly says. “Turn left here.”

They do, and Liz ends up pulling into a park. It’s dusk when they arrive, and the area is heavily wooded, the trees beginning to glow from the lights strung around their limbs.

“Oh, this is pretty. But, what’s going on?” Liz says as they climb out and Kelly starts walking up one of the paths.

She doesn’t answer, so Liz just follows. But she stops as soon as they come to a clearing, a little gazebo set up amid a garden, perched in the middle of a bridge that hovers over a small, pond.

“You set me up,” her eyes narrow at Kelly, who holds up her hands. “Well, something had to give. You’ve got to talk to him eventually. See you later.”

Liz debates turning around to go back to her car, but it’s too late—Travis has already seen her and is walking up as Kelly beats feet back to the park entrance. He comes up to an irate Liz, arms folded defensively across her chest. She glowers at him, but still he tries.

“What do you want?”

That question again.

This time, he doesn’t say sorry. “I want to make it up to you,” he tells her. “Please?”

She huffs, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t seen the effort. The gazebo is set up much like the backyard picnic they first had and she’s got to admit the setting is romantic—it’s a warm, still night, they’re the only ones in the park, and she knows she missed him. She’s just being stubborn.

A nod is the only sign he gets so he quietly coaxes her to the gazebo and they settle down.

Reluctant is an understatement. Travis is trying but Liz isn’t giving and they have a few moments of awkward, uncomfortable silence.

“Lovie,” he says quietly. “Don’t be mad at me.”

For the first time she looks at him and at the expression, bursts into laughter. His eyes are wide and begging, but it’s the little smirk at the corners of his lips that give him away, and at the laughter, the smirk becomes a grin as he scoops her into his lap and in his arms.

She hugs him, face against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat echoing through her.

“You are such an asshole.”

“I know I can be, but I don’t mean to be,” he tells her, becoming serious again. “Sometimes I get a little….”

“Bleak? Grim? Moody? Emotive?” Liz supplies, tilting her face up and tracing his with a finger.

“All of those. It’s just my nature. I can’t really help it.”

“Hm…” She settles back against him. “Good to know. Just give a girl a heads up, next time, and don’t make me drive out there only to stand me up.”

“I promise, I won’t.” A kiss on the forehead to seal it.

The sky is dark overhead, the trees are glowing, and the night creatures are starting to come out. Their peace is interrupted by the loud belch of a bullfrog somewhere near, followed by a splash. Her fingers lace through his.

Eventually, it becomes chilly. Liz shivers.

“Cold?”

“A little.”

He wraps her up in his hoodie and gets up, pulling Liz along. They go to the car. It’s pretty much unspoken at this point—they drive to her house and pull up, and its then she realizes she has something for him.

“What’s that?” Travis asks, seeing the wrapped package Liz is carrying.

“I bought you a gift,” she says, unlocking the door. He settles on her bed, once inside and unwraps it, but pauses when he sees what it is and for a split second, panics.

It’s a Vans shoe box.

He opens it cautiously and sure enough, inside are a fresh pair of shoes, similar to the ones he has on.

Inwardly, Travis is torn between crying and cringing. Does Liz know? Has she figured it out, and is this some sort of pity gift? How is he supposed to respond? What is he supposed to say to something like this?

See sees the slightly stricken look on his face, and becomes instantly nervous, afraid she’s done something wrong.

“My dad and grandpa do the same thing,” she says, talking to fill the space. “I guess it’s a guy thing—I know ya’ll hate shopping so I thought –“

Travis looks at his girlfriend, standing before him and there’s relief—relief that her gift is innocent, that she doesn’t know what she did but somehow he’s made her nervous and so, to cover it, he kisses her, stopping her mid-sentence.

 “It’s nice,” Travis tells Liz, honestly. “Thanks. I guess I may have been a little overdue for some new shoes.”

She smiles, relieved and hugs him.

“I was hoping you’d like it.”

He hugs her back. But inside…doubt lingers. It’s not the first time Travis has been reminded he’s punching above his weight class with Liz…and he also knows eventually he’ll just have to tell her the truth…and hope she loves him enough to overlook what he is…or isn’t.


	15. Chapter 15

The phone rings while he’s studying to study for an exam. He taps a button, sending it to voicemail and resumes what he’s been doing the past hour. But a few minutes later, it rings again, and this time, he answers. Frowning.

“Hello.”

“Hi, is this Travis Fimmel?”

The voice on the other side is formal, business-like and he’s suspicious.

“Who is this?”

“Thomas Dean. I’m an attorney with Whiteside and Carter. We represent professional athletes around the world. Is this Travis? Do you have a minute?”

“Uh, sure.” He marks the place in the textbook and closes it in order to pay attention as Thomas talks.

“So, are you considering entering the draft?”

“Not really.”

“Why not?”

At that, he’s got no real answer. “It’s not something I ever considered.”

“Well, you should consider it now,” Thomas says. “When they start talking about you, Travis, people start listening. After all, you’ve got nothing to lose, and everything to gain. What are you, a junior?”

“Senior,” he says. “I graduate in May.”

“Even better then. What are your plans?”

“Get a job.”

“Really? A job. A simple, 9-5 making $50,000 a year, when you could make $500,000?” Thomas keeps talking. “Look kid, it’s noble. Getting your degree. And if you want to stay out, you can. But I don’t call people who don’t have a shot. Look us up. Our client list is long, and if you change your mind, here’s my number.”

Travis writes it down, and after a few more words, hangs up.

But he doesn’t go back to studying. 

The conversation with Thomas is making him second-guess his plan.

It’s his final year, the spring will be his last semester and afterward—he had planned to put his degree in use, find a firm, go to work. There are a few in town and some he’s done internships with before—at least one has already told him he’s guaranteed a spot when he graduates and it’s a good first step, he knows. It’s the first step toward full independence, letting him Support himself and be free of the government dole.

Football has always been nothing more than a means to an end. It got him this far, but what if, as Thomas says, it could take him further? But what would that mean for Liz?

He finds himself slipping on his old shoes, and a hoodie and leaving the room, taking the steps quickly and heading outside. It’s late tonight, quiet on campus and warm, with a light breeze. The lamps provide illumination as he makes his way down the hill toward the track. It’s empty and there he goes, to just walk and think.

Shit.

Before August it was plain and simple. Play his final year, finish up classes, graduate and go. But now, everything just feels…surreal. For three years he’s been able to just go along—blending into the scene, but this year is anything but. He stands out now more than ever, his cradle of anonymity slowly being eroded the more successful he is on the field and what he fears is being exposed. Quanda tried it at the party a few weeks ago, and he almost did it himself a few days ago in the last interview. Katherine had called him a fraud when they broke up last summer, and he knows she was right about all of it. Only a few know his truth, and he doesn’t want more to find out. Especially not Liz. If he were to put himself before the public he knows it would only be a matter of time, and what he’s playing for now, off the field, is for something a hell of a lot more than just his pride. Liz is perfect. She’s smart, she’s beautiful but what he finds to be the most attractive thing about her is that she’s already achieved so much more than he has.

She knows what she wants—is already on the path toward getting it, and she’s got her own everything. He can’t lie to himself. It’s also makes him feel…inadequate, sometimes. She’s got it all, and he’s got nothing. They’re a complete mismatch. Hell, she was dating the president of one of the most powerful and connected fraternities on campus, for fucksake. And while he knows there’s no _there_ , there, anymore, he wonders, now, why the hell Liz chose him, when its abundantly clear—judging by his friends’ reactions to her, that she could have chosen anyone else.

It’s insecurity talking.

He checks his phone and sees the time and stops walking. 10:45. He’s been out here now an hour, walking in circles alone on the empty track. The temperature has dropped a bit more, too. And he’s tired. Not physically but, mentally. Too much stuff going on.

Travis finishes the last lap and makes his way out of the facility, through the turn-styles and starts to head back toward his dorm.

But just as he reaches the library, he stops, as four people in all black start walking toward him. At first, he thinks they must be some fraternity pledges out on a night run for something, and he starts walking again, but as they cross each other, one of the people shoulder checks him hard and he stumbles and turns around, irritated.

“Hey!”

It all happens fast. One of the people takes a swing. He manages to jump back quick and avoids the first hit, but they quickly surround him. And he knows immediately what the hell this is. Mark’s warning from two weeks ago.

Another person grabs his arm and he manages to break the grip and swings first—catching the guy—he’s pretty sure it’s a guy off guard and stumbling back, but two others jump him. It’s four on one—there’s no way he’s winning this thing but what he does manage is a few hits that make contact before he’s taken down, and has to try and protect himself as the punches and kicks land hard.

It feels like forever. He’s curled up, on the ground, because he can’t do anything else as they beat him, and then, it’s over.

They run.

And slowly, painfully, he gets to his knees, and immediately throws up.

One eye is quickly swelling, and when he opens them, he sees blood, and knows it’s his.

Everything aches. He tries moving again, but his muscles feels shaky and all he succeeds in doing is sitting up. One trembling hand, goes to his pocket fishing…the phone. He takes it out. The screen is shattered, but it still works. There’s no way he’s getting back to his dorm. Not like this. So he makes a call.

.

.

James’ phone vibrates on Kelly’s dresser and he rolls over and looks at it. Travis.

But it’s after 11 and why is Travis calling so late?

“Who is it?” Kelly mumbles, shifting slightly.

“Travis,” he says, picking it up, sleepily. “Hello?”

James listens a second and hearing what his friend sounds like is up immediately. So fast it startles Kelly out of her sleep and she gets up too, her heart beating quickly as James puts on his clothes.

“What’s going on?”

“I gotta go. It’s Travis.”

“What’s wrong?”

“He got jumped and he’s hurt.”

It’s all James says as he grabs his keys and leaves. She hears the engine of the car start and sees the headlights pulling off.

.

.

Liz is shaken awake by Kelly and she too sits up fast, startled and becoming scared by the look in her friends face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Get dressed we have to go,” Kelly says. “It’s Travis and he’s hurt.”

“Hurt?” She’s already up and moving, throwing on a tank top, and pants, ignoring a bra and slipping on shoes.

“What happened?”

“James said he got jumped. He’s already on his way. Come on. Let’s go,” Kelly tells her as Liz grabs her purse and keys. She gives them Kelly, feeling way too panicked to even drive.

“Where are they? On campus at the hospital?”

“I don’t know,” Kelly says as they get in the car. “But where James is, is where we’re going. I think campus.”

The ride is quiet, full of tension and Liz can’t stop her leg from shaking, she’s so worried, torn between wanting to cry. What the hell is this? She knows Travis didn’t do anything to anyone so why would anyone want to hurt him?

“There’s James’ car,” Kelly says pointing. She looks, and sure enough, the green Camry is parked in the lot near the track field, lights on and doors open. They turn in and as Kelly is slowing, Liz hops out and starts running toward the car. But it’s empty.

“James?” She calls.

No answer. So she starts running off in the direction of the guys’ dorm. Up the stairs carved into the hill and as she gets closer to the library, she calls again. “James?”

“Here, Liz!” His voice is faint—he’s further up. Her heart feels like it’s going to jump out her chest as she goes in that direction and comes upon the both of them.

Travis is sitting down on a nearby bench, slumped over, head down and James is next to him.

“Travis!!” She runs up to them and kneels down before her boyfriend, her hands gently on his face. He groans and pushes them away.

“I’m fine.”

“The fuck you are,” she says reaching for him again, but he won’t look at her.

“Mufa, please…” She’s terrified right now, but is trying, for his sake to get it together, and when he does lift his head, she gasps and starts to cry. Travis looks terrible. His right eye is swollen, there’s blood coming out of his nose and his lip is split, the right side of his face, is all scratched up too. It’s all she can do to wrap her arms around him. But when she does, he flinches and she withdraws.

“It looks worse than what it is,” he rasps.

“Can you sit up,” James asks, from the other side. Travis nods, exhaling and Liz moves a bit as he does. But he’s struggling and she and James help, gently guiding him upright.

Her phone rings and she picks it up. Kelly.

“Where are you guys?”

“Up by the Library,” she says, voice still shaky.

“Did you find Travis? Is he okay?”

Liz shakes her head. “No, but…can you come up here? Bring the car. I think we can meet you in the lot.”

“Was that Kelly?” James asks.

“Yeah. She’s bringing the car around. Mufa, can you stand? Can you make it to the parking lot?”

Travis is sitting up now, head back, eyes closed. But he nods. “Yeah…but…”

He tries to stand but winces, and sits back.

“Just give me a minute.”

So they do as he tries to collect himself.

“Liz, get his arm,” James instructs, and she does as he takes the other.

“Okay, on the count of three…1…2..3..” Travis lifts himself as James and Liz help him stand.

In small increments, they go, baby steps, as he limps around the library.

The white Acura is there, Kelly in the driver seat. She gets out and opens the back door.

“I got him,” James tells Liz, helping Travis get in.

“We’re going to the ER,” Liz says, but Travis shakes his head. “No.”

“But you’re hurt!”

“It’ll be okay. I SAID no.” He tells her, firmly. “I really just want to go to sleep.”

“But what if you have a concussion or something?”

“I have a fucking headache, not a concussion, Liz…”

He’s really tired. But he opens one eye and sees the tears in hers…

“Just…I want to go to bed, okay?”

She bites her lip, unsure of it all, but…”

Despite the pain, he reaches for her fingers and laces them through his. “Trust me. I know myself better than you do.”

“Ok…” Liz still isn’t convinced and looks to James.

“You guys go back to the house,” he says. “Travis, I’ll get your stuff and head over. Kelly, Liz wait for me in the driveway and I’ll help you get him in.”

Travis nods. Too exhausted and hurting to really protest. Liz and Kelly climb back in the car and he slumps across the backseat, drifting off for the ride home.


	16. Chapter 16

Liz watches over him the rest of the night, making sure he’s still breathing.

It took the three of them to get Travis into the house and now, he’s sound asleep, in her bed. She’s taken off his jacket and shoes and socks and has washed his face, cleaning and bandaging the cuts on his face to the best of her ability. But the right side of his bottom lip is swollen and so is his eye, though at least his nose as stopped breathing.

Every once in a while, Travis will jerk in his sleep and moan—a pained moan and she leans over him, brushing his hair out of his face.

Travis’s chest rises and falls steadily, and now that he’s cleaned up a bit and resting, and the fear and worry have abated somewhat, Liz feels exhausted.

So she takes off her shoes and climbs onto the other side of the bed, careful not to disturb him.  Liz turns toward Travis and her fingers find his, touching them gently. She lets sleep take her away, too. But her dreams are chaotic, and in them, she sees herself crying over an injured Travis and feels her panic and worry again and again.

.

.

When he wakes up in the morning and tries to move his body he’s hit with a searing pain in his chest that sends him back down, breathing hard.

Everything hurts.

His head. His chest, his stomach, legs…Even the tips of his toes. It’s worse than even the worst game and it takes a long while before he works up the courage to try again.

This time, he manages to sit up, grunting through it, and carefully gets up to stumble into Liz’s bathroom. From there, he gets the first look at himself and is instantly pissed off.

One eye looks back at him, the other a dark red and swollen shut. The right side of his face is too. His lip is split, and there’s several cuts across the right side of his face.

He shakes his head, angry that they were able to get over on him, madder still that it happened in the first place. But there’s not a damn thing he can do about it now.

 Still fuming, Travis makes his way to the shower, leaning on the wall for assistance as he gingerly takes off his shirt and pants, and boxers, and climbs in, turning it all the way up. It gets hot quickly, the water stinging the cuts and scrapes, washing off the dirt and dried blood and everything else, carrying it all down the drain.

He starts to try to move more, as the heat begins to seep through his body, winding its way around his skin.

Liz wakes to the sound of running water, and beside her, the place where Travis was is empty. She gets up, yawning and gets the clothes James brought with him.

A quick knock. No answer, and she opens the door carefully, tipping in with Travis’s stuff.

He’s in the shower, head down, water beating down the back of his head, one arm against the wall.

 She puts everything on the counter and goes, heading next to the kitchen. Water. Some Alieve—because she knows he’s hurt, and breakfast. Nothing big—peanut butter toast, some orange slices. Liz really has no idea what she’s doing, just keeping busy, wanting to help where, how she can.

The water has stopped by the time she goes back to the room with it all, but the bathroom door is still closed and she puts the food down on the side table by the bed and sits down, to wait for him.

Eventually, Travis comes out, walking slowly, but looking much better and she gets up again and goes to him but doesn’t touch.

“I brought you breakfast and some meds,” she says quietly, pointing.

He just nods and walks past her toward the table, downing the Alieve and the water in three large gulps, and starts work on the food. Travis isn’t talking, and she figures she probably shouldn’t either. So she doesn’t.

The stillness is heavy.

“How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling,” he snaps, glaring at her and the anger in his voice makes Liz shrink back, as if she’s been hit.

He sees her blanch and is immediately hit by guilt. It’s not Liz’s fault. He knows that. It’s not like she did it, and seeing the hurt in her face, like he struck her, is just making the situation worse.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No.”

Despite himself he gets up with a wince, and walks over to her, taking her in his arms and pulling her close as she wraps her arms around his waist.

They hold each other.

.

.

Later, once he’s moving around a bit better and at the urging of Liz, Kelly and James, he goes to the campus clinic.

“What happened?” The nurse demands, looking at him incredulously.

“I fell.”

“What really happened?”

“I fell hard,” he says. She knows he’s lying, but he’s not about to say anymore. When he’s finished up and goes back out—James, Kelly and Liz are all waiting.

“Bruised ribs,” he tells them. “Bruised everything.”

“Fuck. How the hell are you going to play Saturday?” James asks. “We’ve got to tell the coach.”

But on this, Travis is insistent. “No. We’re not going to do anything. I’m going to play.”

There’s no talking him down. He’s never missed a game since he became a starter his sophomore year, and he’s not about to start now—not to give Montgomery the satisfaction of knowing just how bad he’s hurt. And he doesn’t really tell Liz either. But he does stop off at the dorm long enough to get his pads, and clothes for tomorrow, before going back to her house.

It’s easier, here. No interruptions.

And, he doesn’t really mind the extra kisses he’s getting. Both Liz and Kelly are fretting over him, and he will admit, at least to himself, that it’s reassuring to know they genuinely care.

Still, everything has a limit.

“I’m fine,” he says, firmly right as Kelly is coming in with an ice pack in one hand, heating pad in the other and Liz is behind her with more food.

“But you need to eat, and this should help,” they say.

Reluctantly, he does, and afterward, Liz kisses his forehead as he lays back down in her bed.

“I’m in the living room if you need anything,” she says.

He sleeps for a few hours, until it’s time for the walk through. Travis and James head to the stadium and as soon as they enter, the team goes silent when they see him.

“Oh goddammit, what happened, Travis?”

Coach Terry is fuming, so angry his entire face has turned a deep red color. He’s looking at his quarterback who at the moment, appears as if death warmed over, and he just doesn’t understand what happened. “You seriously expect me to believe all this is from a fall?”

“That’s what I said.”

Terry looks at him, lips in a thin line.

“Get your ass to the trainers,” he says, shaking his head. Travis goes, leaving James.

“And you. When did this happen?”

“Last night,” James tells him looking down.

“And Travis just…fell? The same Travis who can walk backward on a balance beam just…fell? Randomly?”

“That’s what he told me.”

Terry just stares at James, knowing damn well he’s lying too.

“I don’t know what kind of shit you two have gotten into,” he says, “but there better not be any more ‘falls’. Understand?”

“Yes, coach.”

Terry storms off.

“Let’s go,” he barks to the team. They do, filing out, one-by-one onto the field for the walk through.

.

.

He ends up getting his chest wrapped, and two anti-inflamatory shots to numb the pain. One on the left, one on the right side. “Be careful,” the head trainer tells him.

“We’re going to do some throwing. See how you do.

Once Travis gets outside, he’s breathing better, courtesy of drugs and moving around a lot better as well. So he tries it out.

 The first throw falls way short. Stymied by the pain on his right side—the side that got it worse.

 _Of course_ , he thinks to himself. They would have targeted him there.

Still, he tries again, gritting through it, forcing himself to adapt to what it’s going to be. And eventually, after a while of back-and-forth shots, he starts to hit his targets.

Afterward, they all go inside and coach dismisses the team. Travis hangs back for more bandages and a hot/cold treatment on his aching chest. He’s the last one gone. So he thinks.

But as soon as he steps outside, there’s a group of his teammates waiting for him. Mark is there. James too.

“Let’s talk,” James says leading him back inside the fieldhouse.

They go to one of the classrooms down a darkened hall, and when the door closes, it’s Mark who speaks up.

“I told them what happened,” he explains. “I’m sorry, man.”

“Thanks.” He says drily. “At least you gave me a heads up.”

Mark looks shamed and it’s James who speaks up next.

“Look, Travis. You can’t do anything—they’ll know it was you. But that doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t. Cause this is bullshit. _Fuck_ the Kappas,” he spits.

The others nod in agreement.

“What are ya’ll about to do?” Travis asks suspiciously. He knows James, and that puts him instantly on guard.

“Don’t worry, man. We won’t get caught,” if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, but as captain, I can’t let you guys put yourselves at risk.”

“They won’t try us,” Mark says. “Not all of us.”

James nods. “Don’t worry, T. We’ve got your back. Just focus on Saturday.”


	17. Chapter 17

Saturday comes.

He kisses a worried-looking Liz as he gets dressed. She comes and helps him pull down his shirt, seeing him wince.

“Mufa…”

“Shh…” Another kiss. “I’ll be good.”

It’s not all that reassuring, but for him, Liz tries to be okay. She and Kelly are dressed already, in their jerseys, and it still makes him smile when he sees her in it.

“Solidarity,” she tells him, giving him a gentle hug before he and James go.

.

.

“I cannot believe he’s still going to play,” she tells Kelly a few hours later as they head out to the game. “He’s still hurting.”

“I know,” Kelly says, shaking her head. “I tried to talk to James about it, but he’s been so fucking hostile, for the past few days. I think he’s taking it harder than Travis is.”

“Travis doesn’t want to talk about it. I’ve tried and got nowhere,” Liz says. “I just don’t get it. He wouldn’t hurt anybody. Why would someone want to hurt him? And everyone is talking about it.”

The “fall” is even in an article about today’s game. And when she turned on the radio to listen to the local news, reports of Travis’ injury cast doubt on whether the team can win, and whether he should even be playing. At least the media is still reporting it was an accident. But that’s not what’s going around on campus. It feels like everyone knows.

And when they get to the stadium and take their usual seats, Liz feels a whole bunch of eyes on her—to the point that she feels almost self-conscious. She’s in 5, Kelly is in 55, and while she knows she’s got nothing to be ashamed of, for some reason she still feels like it’s her fault, and she doesn’t know why it is.

The student section is quickly filling up and eventually Quanda and the rest of Kelly’s friends make their way over and sit down a few rows behind them. But after what happened the last time, Kelly’s got no words for any of them. Instead she grabs Liz’s hands. “If those bitches try anything…”

She squeezes back. “It’s good. I’m good. They can do or say whatever they want.”

“Hey Liz, how’s Travis feeling?”

Sure enough, Quanda starts in. Liz turns.

“He’s good.”

“Oh, really? I heard he got jumped by the library. I wonder who he pissed off.”

This time, she turns fully, and gets up. Kelly does too, grabbing for her arm. But it’s too late—because she’s dealt with Quanda’s bullshit for too long and she’s in no mood to hold it in anymore.

Before Quanda can even blink, Liz is up the bleachers, taking them in twos and wrapping her hands around Quanda’s throat. The girl looks surprised and her friends quickly try to pry Liz off. Kelly too.

“Liz!”

But she’s dead set on choking a bitch and Quanda looks scared as she tries to pry Liz’s hands from her neck.

“Anything _else_ you want to tell me?”

It comes out as an angry hiss as Quanda struggles. But Liz’s grip remains tight, and she’s so furious right now that all she wants is to murder Quanda on the spot. Nothing would make her feel better than to put her down.

She doesn’t know who does it, but somehow, she’s pulled off Quanda and back down the bleachers. An older man is staring at her in disapproval.

“Now what the hell is going on here?” He demands, as Liz breathing hard, and Quanda gasps for air, her friends surrounding her.

“Nothing.” Liz says, trying to still her frazzled nerves. “I’m fine.” But her hands are shaking, her heart is pounding in her ears and all she wants is to get to Quanda, again.

“Am I going to have to call security? He asks, staring. He’s in the school colors, and she can tell by what he’s wearing he’s an alumni.

“You crazy _bitch_!” Quanda shouts from the top of the bleachers. “I hope Montgomery kicks your ass, next!”

At that, she stops and stares as Quanda’s friends help her out of the stands. The group goes, leaving Liz and Kelly alone. They look at one another. “Please tell me she said what I just heard,” Liz whispers, her blood, hot.

Kelly nods, eyes wide, But she puts her hands firmly on Liz’s legs, to stop her from going to the very top of the stands, where the fraternities and sororities are. Instead, they both look up, to where the Kappa banners are flying, the brothers decked out in their colors.

Liz sees Montgomery clearly in the middle of them laughing his ass off at something, and she just stares. Her anger white-hot.

“Do. Not. Go. Up There,” Kelly says, voice hard, watching her warily and gripping the back of her jersey, just in case.

“Elizabeth Joy Dubek, we _cannot_ get kicked out. Travis would be pissed, and it’s not going to solve anything. Not right now. You got Quanda. Let it go.” But Liz shakes her head, still looking up. Montgomery turns and for a moment they lock eyes. He smiles at her and blows her a kiss.

All it does is spark her fury and she starts to move, but Kelly manages to block her way and hold her back.

“DON’T!” Her friend shouts. “It’s not worth it Liz. He’s not worth it. He did it to piss you off. Don’t let him know he got to you,” she says, trying everything. But Kelly’s not sure it’s really going to work.

In truth, she’s never seen Liz as angry as she is right now, and the attack on Quanda frankly, scared the shit out of her. They’re lucky they haven’t been arrested and all she’s concerned with now is keeping Liz together. It’s been a rough few days for all of them but she knows, the last thing Travis likely wants, or needs, is his girlfriend fighting her ex-boyfriend in the stands in front of more than 10,000 people.

“THINK about Travis,” she says. “You cannot fight Montgomery in a jersey with your boyfriends name on it. That’s NOT a good look.”

No, it’s not. And while she’s still furious, Kelly’s words manage to get through. Fuming, Liz sits back down—right in time for kickoff. She tries to lose herself in the game. But she can tell, even as the team comes out on the field, that Number 5 is dragging, and her heart hurts.

.

.

They’re giving him cover. And he’s working with what little he’s got—and it’s not much. The flak jacket and extra pads are hindering his distance and so he can’t throw as far, and the quickly realize after his first interception, that they’ve got to do things differently.

A time out, and quick change in strategy. Shorter passes, rushes—Travis’ legs aren’t broke but his breathing is difficult and his chest, even with the steroid shots is screaming, so he compensates as much as he can. It makes for…interesting handoffs, short passes, and it confuses their opponents, who had planned for something different.

 The game is long.

At least, it feels that way. By halftime, he’s having trouble breathing and the pain in his chest is starting to return, full force.

More shots. Another hot/cold treatment.

 _Two more quarters_ , he tells himself. _I just have to hang in for another half-hour. Conquer the pain. Control it._

He wills himself to the end, fighting through.

The other team has figured out he’s hurt. And now, they’re targeting, trying to break through the offensive line.

 The ball is snapped and he takes it, but quickly the defense is closing in, leaving him no other option but to either take the hit or run. So he runs, sliding in for the first down right before he gets taken out—effectively dodging a hit.

He pushes himself through the third quarter. And into the fourth. They don’t win by a lot, but they do end up winning again and the stadium erupts in a cheer. The band plays.

And he just collapses on the field, spent. But damn if he didn’t make it. And there’s a certain degree of satisfaction in knowing that the Kappas didn’t get over on him.

.

.

Liz and Kelly are out waiting by the field house, when James walks up to them, looking grim. He gives Kelly a hug and speaks to Liz.

“Travis is going to be a while,” he tells her. “He’s getting fixed up.” At that, her eyes go wide in panic and she starts to move toward the doors, but James puts an arm on hers and brings her back.

Don’t worry,” he tells her, “it’s okay. The trainers are working on him.”

She nods, but bites her lip.

“What about you?” Kelly asks. “I’ll be over later,” he tells her, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Me and a few guys have some business we have to address.”

“Do you know how long Travis will be?” Liz asks. James shakes his head.

“No, but he says he’ll call you tomorrow. He doesn’t want you waiting around here.”

“Okay.”

“I’m starving,” Kelly says as they get into the car. “Let’s go find food.” It’s already past 11 and there’s only a few restaurants still open. They end up at Chili’s together, and Kelly watches as Liz orders a shot…and then a beer…

“I just need…” she tries, but shakes her head. With everything, Liz knows what she needs is to know her boyfriend is okay, but with the day they’ve had she’s still very much wired and while she’s not a drinker, the shot and the beer are starting to bring her down from her fighting high.

She’s mortified that she let it get even that far. It’s unlike her.

Mid-way through dinner, Kelly’s phone starts to buzz.

She looks at it and gasps.

“What is it?” Liz asks.

“The Kappa house,” Kelly says.

“What about it?”

“It’s on fire.”

They pull up right as a large crowd is gathering to watch the blaze. The house is fully engulfed and there are police out, trying to keep everyone back as firefighters make a futile attempt to put out the flames.


	18. Chapter 18

“Hi Travis, its Thomas. Have you given any more consideration to what we talked about?”

Thomas…Thomas…he’s racking his brain, trying to remember who this person is. At the extended silence, Thomas tries again.

“You know, last week—about the draft.”

“Oh.”

Now he remembers.

“Yeah, uh…I haven’t had time.”

Understatement. There’s been way too much going on. With the fire investigation, the tension on campus, his still bruised body, and what had possessed him to take six classes this semester? It’s starting to feel like overkill. And he’s the carrion.

Travis doesn’t think he will ever get accustomed to the scrutiny he’s facing. The story of the win coupled with his “accident” has only added to the hype surrounding both the team and himself—something he still believes is a completely false narrative—but he’s too tired to really fight against it right now. The talking heads continue to talk on the sports media outlets, but he doesn’t think it will be forever. Eventually, they’ll grow tired of him and move on to the next.

“You should make time, Travis. Again. Give this some consideration.”

His reply is sarcastic. “Look, man. When is the last time an HBCU quarterbacks made it in the draft?”

They both know the answer. Not in the last 40 years. Maybe if he were a lineman, or a defensive end, but being a quarterback? Nah. Their school is too small, the program not as big as say—the large public university across the railroad tracks that’s won four national championships in the past 10 years, including two back-to-back -- and the likelihood he’ll be drafted is…miniscule at best. Travis knows this. It’s football. Right now, it’s just a game, but at that level it’s a business—and it comes down to numbers and stats.

But Thomas doesn’t back down.

“Look. I represent four current players—one guy is on the Seahawks. Another is in Tampa, and the two others are out in California. I don’t pick losers and I’ve never been wrong. Keep thinking about it. I’ll be in touch,” he says, and hangs up.

Travis does too.

The idea is still far-fetched. Implausible. But…it’s the second time this guy has called. He wrote down the name and the firm a few weeks ago, and types it in to get more information on Thomas Dean and what was the name of the firm? Whiteside and Carter?

He looks it up.

A website. The firm is based in California, but that doesn’t really mean anything, anyone can put on a front. So he starts digging a little deeper. Trust has never been his default.

Still…he checks. The California Bar. He types in the name and Dean’s face comes up. A member in good standing. And the firm as well. Whiteside & Carter. At least he was telling the truth about that.

More searching, and he eventually finds Dean’s other clients. All currently with $20 million, 4-year plus contracts.

It makes him pause a moment…considering…but he shakes his head, and closes out of the tab. Better to be safe. To not get one’s hopes up. He’s been crushed before, and it’s not something he wants to repeat, or ever feel again. He’s got a plan, he’s got a path, and it’s the safe one. The secure one. And what he wants most is stability.

What Dean is talking about isn’t that.

.

.

This is the by-week, a much-needed rest for everyone. For Travis especially. His ribs are still bruised and he’s not done a field practice since the game. It’s needed rest and the pain is starting to recede. Seven days have passed since the incident, and the upcoming weekend is the first free one he’s had since the season began. There’s tension on campus and the best way to escape it has been to leave—the fire at the Kappa house is still under investigation and while everyone knows who did it, and why, no one is talking, and both he and James have spent the past few nights off-campus and laying low at Liz and Kelly’s house.

 “Let’s go to the beach,” he tells Liz Saturday morning when they wake up. “Are you working this weekend?”

She shakes her head no. “Not until Monday.”

Her schedule at the paper has changed to Monday through Thursday, giving her 20 hours a week and it’s a good balance with her classes. Travis now comes over Thursday nights and goes back Mondays. It’s working for them, and she likes it. They’ve worked hard to carve out the time for each other and what little they have, they value.

“Where are you two going?” Kelly asks when she wakes up to see Liz packing a bag.

“To the beach, do you guys want to come?”

“Hell yes!” Kelly says. “Let me wake up James.”

Four bag chairs are tossed into the back of Liz’s SUV, along with a camping grill, a cooler, beach blankets and towels. They stop at Publix for hamburgers and hotdogs, buns and condiments, charcoal and lighter fluid, along with some chips and paper products and again at the liquor store for beer—James’s call.

 “Which one are we going to?” Liz asks. Travis is driving them.

“St. George Island. They’ve got the park we can set up at.”

It’s an hour and half drive, but much of it is coastal, and scenic. They pass by beach houses elevated on cement stilts, some grand, some modern, some more modest and sensible. But there are more empty lots than full ones—the remnants of a hurricane that passed through a few years ago.

Eventually, they pull up into the town of Eastpoint—a fishing village, mostly—with small shops selling cheap t-shirts and sunglasses, a few restaurants and bars meant for the tourists, and as they get on the bridge to the island, next to them are the remains of the old bridge—the one taken out by the hurricane. It’s now just a long fishing pier with people scattered about, casting out into the ocean.

A few more miles, and they pass the gated community along with the beach house rentals and at the far end of the island they stop at the park entrance. James slides a five-dollar bill up and Travis hands it to the gatekeeper and they’re waved through.

It’s a nice Saturday—the fall, so it’s not as busy here and they easily get a table under a cabana. Travis and James go to work on the grill while Kelly and Liz venture out a little ways and set up the rest of their stuff on the beach. A big blanket is rolled out, and Kelly—the native Floridian that she is, expertly stakes down the two big umbrellas and the sun shade. Liz unfurls the bag chairs and in about an hour they can smell the food coming from where James and Travis are.

They take a step back—impressed with their handiwork, the little compound they’ve staked out for themselves on the beach awaits—but something else does too.

 Liz’s stomach growls and Kelly laughs, poking her.

“Feeding time?”

“I’m so damn hungry I swear I could eat for two,” she says. Kelly starts laughing but stops.

“Wait—what?”

“What?”

Kelly is looking at her strangely. “Something you’re trying to tell me, Liz?”

“What?” She’s so confused and Kelly gives her a pointed up-and-down look and pokes her stomach.

“Oh! No! No way!”

“Okay, because…you know how that sounded, right?”

 “Yeah, yeah. But no. Not what I was getting at,” Liz laughs. “I’m just hungry, is all.”

“ _Sure_ you are. Hungry for Vitamin D---” Kelly says making both of them crack up as they walk back to the pavilion where the guys are just pulling the meat from the grille.

“Ya’ll cooked ALL the hamburgers and hotdogs?” Liz is looking incredulously at their handiwork. There were eight burgers in the pack and eight hotdogs, and while she’s starving, she’s pretty damn sure she’s not going to eat two of each. But the guys grin and toast to themselves with beers.

“Yup,” James tells her. “Me and Travis will handle whatever you two don’t.”

The guys end up devouring the vast majority of the food and Kelly is content to just mess with Liz, making highly inappropriate motions with her hotdog. They giggle together with Travis and James oblivious.

Eventually, all that’s left is one hotdog and one hamburger. They’re all presently laid out between the beach blanket and the sun tent, in various stages of ‘Itis’. Liz and Travis are snuggled under the tent. He’s sitting up, Liz between his legs, laying against his chest.

The bruising is fading, and he’s still sore but she feels good here and he’s got his arms around her.

“Ugh. I’m so full,” she complains. And it’s followed by a very un-lady-like burp that makes her grimace. It makes all three of them laugh, though.

“Stop it!” but she smiles and tilts her head up as Travis kisses her. They kiss for a while, enjoying the peace and the intimacy. The past week has been…crazy, the climate on campus tense, and it’s nice to just get away from everything—even for a day. It’s a day of peace. His hands caress her belly and slide down, under the fabric of her cover up and upwards to her breasts, taking one in each hand. She wiggles back against him, tracing the outline of his mouth with her tongue.

 “Pretty sure sex on the beach is only a thing if it’s alcoholic,” she whispers, making him chuckle. “Not interested in broad daylight?”

“There are children here!” She feigns shock and this time he laughs out load.

“Ya’ll know we can see you, you dirties,” Kelly calls.

They look up.

“We’re not doing anything,” Liz says.

“That’s what you say when ya’ll are about to do something,” James tells her and she’s got decency enough to be slightly embarrassed as Travis kisses the back of her neck.

“Your just mad you didn’t claim the sun tent,” he tells them, getting up and pulling Liz up too. They come out.

James and Kelly get up too and take off their cover-ups and James and Travis take off their shirts. Liz dips back into the shade to fetch sunscreen.

“Turn around,” she commands and Travis does, letting her spray him down before she does the same for herself, and tosses the can to Kelly who does the same for James and herself as well.

“Okay, NOW we can go.”

The water is cold and the women squeal as they stick their toes in, wading in slowly. Travis and James just dive right in and seeing Liz and Kelly’s reticence, they grin and each other and go back, picking both women up and tossing them in.

They come up angry and sputtering, soaked and shivering.

“Are you crazy?” Liz shouts at Travis.

“My hair!!!” Kelly wails, her locks hanging limply across her face and down her shoulders.

Travis comes wading up, looking completely unfazed as he grabs Liz by the waist and pulls her close, nuzzling her.

“Maybe just a little bit,” he says. “Just for you.”

It makes her grin. They kiss again, in the water, and James and Travis end up chasing and stalking Liz and Kelly through the waves for a few hours until the sun starts to go down.

It’s late by the time they all get home and the couples say good night, and head off to their respective bedrooms.

“So, about sex,” Travis starts slowly as Liz is peeling off her still-damp swimsuit.

“Hmmm?” She gives him a flirty look over the shoulder and he closes the door with a foot before strolling over, wrapping her up in his arms again.

“I’m feeling better,” he tells her as she arches back against him.

“I can tell.” There’s a smile in her voice as his hands rest on her hips pulling her against his.

“Let me show you how much better, Lovie.”                               

Liz giggles, as he walks them to the wall and does away with her bikini bottoms, and the top.

Afterward, they talk.

“What happens when you graduate?” Liz asks as Travis plays in her hair.

“I’m not going to leave you, if that’s what you think.” He says. “I’ve got a job offer in town. I can stay until you finish.”

“And what then?” She asks, rolling over. “What are we doing with each other, Travis?”

He doesn’t answer. Just takes her hand in his and kisses it.

.

.

They win the next two home games, bringing them up to 7-1.

Kelly and James are going to Kelly’s parents’ house in South Florida for Thanksgiving, but Liz is staying in town, trying to finish up a research project for the newspaper. But she’s seriously tired. And has been for the past several days.

Likely due to the long hours in the newsroom. They’ve been working on a story—local corruption and an FBI investigation of city commissioners and she’s been hitting the ground hard—trying to gather as many interviews as she can to contribute to the work—they’re working fast, knowing a few other local outlets have the story as well, but trying to be the first to break it. The story should be coming out this upcoming week. But today, she’s working hard, cooking.

At least there’s a slight break, for the holiday.

Travis is coming over and for dinner, she’s made a roasted chicken, macaroni and cheese, baked sweet potatoes and green beans. Nothing super fancy, but festive enough to match the holiday.

The last of the meal is coming out of the oven when he comes through the door, dropping his backpack next to the sofa before walking up behind her and pulling her against him as she tries to get the sweet potatoes out of the oven. Travis casts an appreciative look at the spread and inhales. Everything looks good. Even his girlfriend.

“For me?”

“Well, what am I going to eat?” she teases, spooning a corner from the mac & cheese and turning to feed him as he takes the bite.

It’s cheesy, for sure. Cheesy and buttery, and really, really good. So good, he takes the fork and slips around her, sticking it in the dish and taking another piece, before Liz shoos him out of the kitchen.

“Go sit,” she commands. “I’ll make the plates.”

He knows not to argue, so he does, at the table, watching her buzz around the kitchen. Eventually, she brings the food and they eat. Afterward, she curls against him on the coach, and before he knows it, she’s sound asleep.

“Liz?”

A gentle snort. But she doesn’t move.

“Lovie?”

Still nothing. She’s out cold. Travis chuckles.  He laughs the next morning when he tries to wake her, but she rolls over, pulling the blankets over her head. Eventually, he just leaves her and plods out to the living room.

Liz doesn’t wake up until around noon, surprising, since she’s normally an early riser. And when she comes out, she’s yawning. Travis looks up, seeing her, her hair tangled, the curls plastered to her face looking bleary-eyed. Only Liz can make a sleep hangover look sexy, he thinks, getting up from the couch to steer her toward it.

“Sleepy, much?”

Another yawn as she settles down, legs folded under her.

“Yeah. What time is it?”

He looks amused.  “Noon.”

“Noon!”

 That wakes her up and she quickly gets up and runs to the bedroom. He hears drawers slamming shut, the sound of running water and Liz comes back, quickly tying her hair into a messy pony tail and slipping into the flats by the door.

“In a rush?”

“I’m late for work!” She says. “I’ll be back. Love you!”

“Love you too!” He shouts. But the door has already slammed shut and he hears her pulling out the drive.

 That means, he’s got the house to himself, and so, he gets p and goes to the kitchen, loading the dishwasher with the dirty plates from last night’s dinner.

He makes a fresh one for himself, and goes to settle back down on the couch, watching ESPN.

.

.

The rest of the season goes by fast. And they continue their winning streak, all the way through the annual classic game, earning a bid in the Celebration Bowl—the HBCU National Championship, in Atlanta.

Liz and Kelly have made the trip to cheer on the guys. And it’s being covered like crazy. Travis’ phone has been ringing all week, and he’s been swamped with interview requests. So many the team has had to arrange media avails all week after practice just so Travis, James and a few others can answer and take questions. What it’s also meant, is that she’s barely seen her boyfriend all week. But he’s called and they’ve texted. Still, she’s anxious.

“Take the Orange Blossom-International Drive Exit, to International Drive. Turn right. Turn right.”

 The Google lady guide them through the busy lanes of the I-4 corridor and Liz pulls off and onto International Drive, in Orlando.

“I’m SO excited!” Kelly exclaims, almost bouncing. “James says they’re out of practice and at the hotel. Are you sure your parents don’t mind we’re not staying with them?”

Liz nods as google navigates them to the Sheraton, where the team is staying. Both James and Travis told Liz and Kelly they could stay with them, even though Liz wasn’t a hundred percent sure.

“We were going to stay with my parents,” she’d protested. But both of their boyfriends told them to cancel, and to come to the hotel. “We’ve got our own rooms,” they’d said—the four-way conversation playing out over the car’s Bluetooth system. “So come here.”

Liz ended up calling Rose, her mother, to tell her they had a hotel. But she didn’t exactly say where, knowing her mom wouldn’t approve of either of them staying with their boyfriends. Even though she’s about to turn 22 in a few months, she already knows she would never hear the end of it.

“We’ll see you tomorrow after the game,” she’d said.

So, here they are. But they know they have to be…discreet.

The white Acura pulls into the parking lot and the women climb out with their bags. Kelly texts James and he texts back:

_Back stairway._

They go, and sure enough, it opens for them with their boyfriends there.

“Are you guys sure?” Liz asks, cautiously. “I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

But Travis smiles and glances at James. “We won’t. Now, come on.”

As soon as they arrived earlier and learned every guy had his own room, those with girlfriends began making “arrangements.” Most of them, including Travis and James, haven’t seen their ladies in a week and even the coach had sort of alluded to it, telling them he didn’t care what they did, but they better be rested and ready for the morning. “You’re young men and you need to make sacrifices. Don’t do anything stupid. Represent yourself, your team, your school with class. Curfew is at 10. And No, your girlfriends can’t spend the night.”

They know they aren’t the only ones presently ignoring that last part. They take Liz and Kelly to the nearest staircase, opting for discretion. James and Kelly leave them on the 12th floor. “Call me in the morning, Liz,” she says as James sticks his head out checking to see whether any of the chaperones aka, assistant coaches are roaming the hall.

Travis and Liz walk up two more flights of stairs and he does the same. Satisfied the halls are empty, he carries her backpack as she follows him down the corridor and around—until they get to the room. The key card is a fab and there’s a whir and a beep. The light on the latch turns green and Travis turns the handle, walking through.

Liz goes straight to the back of the room and gazes out at the night’s sky, lights from across the city twinkling before her. The back wall is a large, glass window, with a safety bar erected from end to end. Below, the streets are crowded with people-tourists, most likely, gazing and gawking, others leaving and going to restaurants and bars. She can see everything from here, including the new Mercedes-Benz stadium, lit up like a shining ball.

A shiver of excitement rings through her and she turns to Travis grinning. He comes up and wraps his arms around her waist, and kisses her lips before going for her neck.

It’s the biggest game of the year.

 But that’s tomorrow.

Right now, his pretty girlfriend is here, and they’re alone—really alone, sequestered in a private space and they both know how rare this is. Normally, they’re slinking away for quickies here and there, before James and Kelly come home, but tonight…he’s got other ideas.

“Lovie,” his whispers, the hairs of his beard brushing against her neck as he pulls her body close, letting her feel his intent.

“Yes, Mufa?”

Breathless, because of what his hands are doing, and where they are, slowly caressing her breasts the sides and winding their way down to her hips before gripping her ass. Hard.

Liz knows exactly where this is going.

“We don’t have to rush,” he tells her as he parts her legs and slips his hand between them.  “We can take our time tonight.”

They end up taking their time all night.

He bends her over on the bar, in front of the windows. Picks her up and balances her against the wall.

The floor.

 Sometime, in the wee hours of morning, they find their way to bed where she rides him as he holds her hips, pushing up, into her, making her breath hitch, and her breasts bounce.

They switch positions, him on top.

She’s a shaking, trembling mess as Travis smiles down at her, loving the way Liz’s skin glows, the way she calls his name, the way she smells, and the way she feels against him…

But what he adores the most is the colors they make when their bodies come together, her a lovely, glowing brown, and his, tanned from the sun.  He laces their fingers together and she wraps her hand around his neck and pulls him down to her mouth.

He loves the way she tastes…and he’s tasted every inch of her.

Their lovemaking reaches its climax. He feels it starting and toes and it spreads to other places too, as he picks up the pace. When his hits, it forces those three fatal words from his mouth as he comes. Afterward she’s curled against him, and they’re floating in the afterglow.

“I love you too,” Liz says, her fingers playing in the hairs on his chest. There’s no place she’d rather be. No one she’d rather be with.

Lust left a while ago.

Somehow, since the start of the semester…Love took over.

It’s the beginning of December.

They doze off.

.

.

The next morning, he’s up on time, rested and ready to go. Travis looks down at Liz, her dark hair and brown skin standing out in contrast against the white blankets. He brings then up around her shoulders and she stirs and rolls over.

“Mufa?”

It’s groggy, and she squints a bit, and yawns as he leans down to kiss her.

 His little piece of heaven. Here. In his bed, well…not _his_ bed but, in his space and Travis thinks this is the way it should be—him waking up to her every morning, exactly like this.

He’s not naïve. And he’s not dumb. He loves Liz. Loves her in a way he hasn’t ever loved any other person. What he wants is to give her everything he doesn’t have, and maybe, one day, he will. Because she has welcomed him not only into her body, but into her heart and he hopes that when he does tell her the truth, she’ll understand. And that she’ll still love him afterward.

They’ve been through hell and back together and even after all they’ve put up with so far, she’s still here. All he really wants is for Liz to love him. It’s been a long time since someone did.


	19. Chapter 19

 “Are you okay, Liz?” Kelly asks. “You’ve been sleeping a lot lately.”

“I’m fine. Just tired,” she replies, curtly. It’s December. The last week of formal classes, and the Semester—between working, going to class and Travis—has been chaotic. Now it’s study time. Finals begin Monday and she’s got five. Three Monday and two Tuesday. Liz has never been good at concentrated study—she’s mostly skimmed and reviewed, going over notes, making flashcards for terminology and using Kelly as a sounding board for impromptu quizzes. Her short term memory is great, and this is what gets her through so that Tuesday, immediately after she finishes her last final, Liz comes back and climbs into bed.

It’s only noon.

Travis calls Liz three times. Texts her twice. But when he doesn’t hear from her after several hours, he gets a little concerned, and finally, breaks down and calls Kelly. She picks up.

“Hey Kelz. Is Liz home?”

“Yeah. She’s in her room. I think she’s sleep.”

Travis frowns.

“She’s been sleep a lot,” he says. “I was just worried. Thanks.”

“No prob.”

When they hang up, he thinks about it. Liz’s sleeping habits lately. Like she’s in hibernation or something.

.

.

Kelly looks down at Liz, buried under a mound of blankets and pillows, and she frowns.

“Wake up.”

Liz stirs, but doesn’t move, so Kelly shakes her until she does.

“What?” This time, it’s full on angry when Liz wakes, cranky, hair a mess, and glowering as she sits up. But Kelly is resolved.

“Pee on this. Right. Now.” She holds out the stick to Liz.

This is ridiculous. Liz has been sleeping like the dead since Orlando and that was a month ago. She’s been irritable and cranky and while Kelly hadn’t paid much attention to it before—figuring it was end-of-semester fatigue, Travis’ call of concern had set her mind…thinking.

 So, she went sifting around her bathroom and under the counter until she found what she was looking for—and she now gives it to Liz, who takes it, squinting.

“What is this?”

“Just go pee on it,” Kelly says, pulling her out of bed and pushing her toward the bathroom before settling on the bed, waiting.

 After a while, the toilet flushes and Liz comes out, stick in hand, yawning.

“Why do you think I’m pregnant?” She asks, completely oblivious. “Wait—are you?”

“Oh, no! Don’t look at me,” Kelly says. “That’s for you.”

But Liz is wide awake now, and looking Kelly with suspicion. “Are you trying to fake a pee test? For real, Kelly…are you pregnant?”

“No, I’m NOT.”

Oh great, Kelly thinks.  Liz assumes she’s trying to pass off a pee test. Her eyes dart to the stick in Liz’s hand and she can’t quite see everything, but there’s a glance of blue peeping from the small reader.

 “What’s it say, Liz?”

“What’s what say?”

“The test in your hand. What’s it say?”

Liz glances at it.

“Uh, two lines?”

At that, Kelly’s eyes go wide.

“Liz, Hun,” her voice takes on a slightly southern, motherly drawl as she steers, her friend down to the bed and sitting her on it before getting down to eye level.  “Let me repeat, I’m not pregnant.”

Liz looks at her blankly, and Kelly sighs, thinking for a moment how absolutely dense her best friend, and almost-sister is being. This time, she speaks a lot slower.

“ _I’m_ not pregnant,” she tries again. “But according to the test in your hand, two lines means you are.”

.

.

Liz is nervous. She hasn’t taken another test since the one Kelly gave her, but it’s enough to have set her on edge. She’s not 100 percent sure, but she’s hoping the test is wrong. Her cycle is due in a week. She can’t be pregnant. It’s not possible. It’s actually quite…inconvenient, and there’s a lot of stuff she wants and needs to do—this is the unfathomable turned into reality. So she decides to just…ignore it for the time being. Besides, all she’s been is sleepy and that, coupled with a cheap pee test don’t necessarily point to pregnancy. It could be the stress.

And her cycle is supposed to come next week. She’s always tired right before and during her period, so, there’s nothing to worry about.

“Are you going home for the break?” She asks Travis, as they’re curled up together in the bed, half-asleep. Her fingers are running through the hair on his chest, following the trail down his stomach. It tickles, and he catches the hand before it can start doing exactly what he knows she’s about to do.

“Yeah,” he tells her, feeling slightly uncomfortable. “I leave Friday.” It’s the first time he lies outright. But she’s already falling asleep, saving him from more questions. He hates the Christmas Break.

Christmas and early summer are always the worst. Because the dorms shut down for weeks at a time. And it’s the same this year.

“Are you sure there’s nowhere I can go?” He asks his case worker when he meets with her that afternoon.

“Travis, why didn’t you check in earlier?” She says. “All the spaces we have are full.”

Fuck.

He hangs up, frustrated. They had to be out of the dorms by noon. And he knows he can’t go to Liz’s. He told her he was going home. And so to call and say he’s really not would be…difficult. And it would be even worse to tell her why.

 Double fuck.

 Kelly and James are already gone—this time, to James’ family, and they’re likely not to come back until a few days before the spring semester.

 Which really leaves him…shit out of luck.

He sighs, and starts walking to the bus stop, knowing exactly where he has to go. It’s not ideal, but it beats sleeping on the streets. Plus, he can save money—and doesn’t have to spend what little he’s got on an extended stay or a hotel. Besides, he tells himself, trying to be optimistic about the situation, it’s not like he’s never been there before anyway. The people at the shelter are nice. And they don’t turn down anyone as long as he gets there in time. Which, he does.

That morning, he’d woke up next to Liz. And tonight, he lays his head down in a bunk in a room with more than 50 other people, the smell, tart and harsh in his nose. His favorite hoodie is draped over his head as he tries to reduce the odors around him. They can’t help it, and he doesn’t judge them for it. The lives of people like them are hard, and everyone has to live where they must, and do what they have to do to survive. He knows he’s luckier than most. And Travis also knows he’s just dollars and cents and a scholarship away from living exactly as they do. So he’s grateful for the bed. And the warmth. And the meals. But he really wishes Christmas will pass quickly so he can go back to the dorm.

Liz’s house isn’t an option. He’s not technically even supposed to be in town anymore.

.

.

“Thanks John, I’ll see you next year,” Liz says, bidding goodbye to her editor for the next few weeks.

“Happy holidays and new year,” he tells her. “Good work this semester. We’ll see you in January.”

She nods and goes.

Later, she calls her mother, to check in.

“So, when are you coming home?” Rose asks. “Your dad is becoming a Grinch, complaining that all he’s doing is paying tuition for a daughter he never gets to see.”

 Liz laughs.  “Tell daddy I love him and I promise I’ll be home for Christmas,” she says.

“Well, what have you been up to, daughter? It seems you’ve forgotten about your poor, old parents.”

“I’ve been… good,” Liz responds, electing to deflect a bit. “And you two _aren’t_ old.” Her mom is in her 50’s but even now, people think Rose is Liz’s sister. When she was younger, that used to bother her, but now she’s come to realize Rose will just always look 20. With silver-gray hair.

 “I met a…guy,” she ventures.

“Oh?” Rose is intrigued. “So are you and Montgomery are officially over?”

“Mom, that’s been over since February and you know it.”

“So who is your new beau? Do I need to seed your grandparents down for an inspection?”

Liz snorts, shaking her head. “NO! God, if it were up to them, I’d be 80 before I even started dating! He’s the quarterback—for the football team. His name is Travis.”

Rose sucks in her breath.

She’s seen the few stories—Carl watches the sports networks and she’s seen the coverage of the school.

“Uh…Okay…” she tells her daughter, momentarily caught off guard at the particular selection.

“Why do you sound like that? What?”

“Oh, nothing. So, how long have you two been dating?”

“Officially, September. But Kelly and her boyfriend fixed us up.”

Rose laughs. “Leave it to Kelly. That girl has been boy-crazy for years. What do you know about—what’s his name? Travis? Have you met his family?”

At that, Liz quiets. “No. I haven’t.”

“What does he say about them? Are they good people?”

“Um… he hasn’t said anything about them at all.”

Rose quiets, not quite having a response to that one. What kind of person doesn’t talk about their parents? Their family?

“Elizabeth, are you sure about him?”

Is she sure? That’s the million dollar question…it’s Wednesday. Two more days left in the week. But her cycle still hasn’t come.

“I’m going to do some volunteering work at the shelter next week,” she tells Rose, ignoring the question. “But I should be home next Friday.”

Rose decides not to prod, at the moment. “Alright, chicken, we’ll see you when you get home. Love you.”

“Love you too. Hug daddy for me.”

Liz is smiling when she hangs up. Chicken is the nickname her father gave her when she was little because she was all long limbs and Carl said, she wobbled around like a chicken.

Thinking about her daddy makes Liz feel wistful. She misses her parents, as overprotective as they can be. Right now, she’d like to be curled up with her mother. Because again…only two days left…and she’s starting to think maybe that stick was telling the truth. And the idea that she might be, that she could be pregnant is deeply unsettling.

.

.

He’s managed to get a bed in one of the shelter’s transitional apartments--they’re mostly for families, and people who are temporarily homeless, so that’s where the shelter folks put him. He doesn’t complain. His roommate is a grizzled, older man with faded tattoos on his arm who goes by Jimbo. Jimbo regales Travis with stories of partying at Studio 54 and he has to laugh at some of the claims—wild and outlandish, but the guy is a great storyteller, and they get along fine.

Since he’s here, he’s decided to do some volunteering in return for the free room, and the shelter director, Michelle, has agreed to let him. There are families with children and so Travis acts as an unofficial tutor, reading to the little kids, helping the older ones with math as they struggle with algebra and geometry.

He catches sight of Liz Saturday day as she walks through the sliding glass doors, and this time, he panics for real, quickly begging off from the kids and trying to make himself vanish fast.

Why is she here? He thought she was going home?

Travis goes to his room and his abrupt arrival catches Jimbo off guard.

“Thought you were playing with the kids,” he observes. “You alright, son?”

Travis shakes his head breathing heavily.

“My…girlfriend is here.”

“Girlfriend?” Both of Jimbo’s eyebrows go up to his hairline. “Well, hell! What are you doing here, if you’ve got a woman? Shouldn’t you be with here?”

 He shakes his head. “No. I can’t. It’s not…She’s not…Fuck!” He bangs his head against the wall, in frustration.

 .

.

When she gets to the shelter, she’s surprised to see one of her colleagues, Jolene, there.

“Liz! Volunteering?” She asks.

“Yeah. I usually do this time of year. What are you working on?”

“Just a light feature. The usual, people-in-need story,” Jolene says. “Just trying to get people to talk to me.”

Liz is sympathetic. It’s Jolene’s first job, and she’s on the General Assignment desk. Today’s report is a light feature—both simple, cause it’s a usual story, but difficult because not everyone really wants to share their stories and have that splashed across the newspaper.

“Have you seen the director?” Liz asks. As soon as she raises the question, a short red-haired curvy woman comes up to them.

“Liz and Jolene?” She asks, calling Liz Jolene and Jolene, Liz.

“I’m Liz,” she speaks up.

“I’m Jolene, Jolene says.”

“Oh, good! Well, Liz, I’ll show you to the kitchen and get you started. Jolene, you can come—our head cook is here,” she says, as they walk toward the kitchen.

.

.

Travis thinks he’s safe and after about an hour, comes out of the apartment and goes back to the recreation room. But his entry is mistimed. Travis sees the shelter director right as she sees him, and she’s got a reporter with her. He quickly tries to back out, but it’s too late.

“Travis!” Michelle says, waving him over. “This is Jolene, she’s with the newspaper, and she’s working on a feature. Travis,” Michelle tells Jolene, “is so sweet. You know he’s in college, and he’s staying with us over the break—that’s something not a lot of people realize, you know, students without families—where do they go over these breaks….”

Jolene is looking at him, and he fidgets uncomfortably, trying hard to shrink his 6-1, 235 lb. frame. But he can’t make himself invisible and…

“Wait—Travis…you’re the quarterback everyone’s been talking about, right?”

He really has no idea to respond, so he just nods and her eyes light up.

“Wait—you’re…living here?”

It’s the worst thing imaginable.

“I uh…really don’t want to talk about it….”

“Travis, she’s great!” Michelle again. “Travis grew up in foster care…” she tells Jolene and before his eyes, he’s seeing everything just come undone as the reporter starts writing everything down.

“Wait—foster care?” She asks. He’s got no idea what to do, what to say—he’s never been in this situation but Michelle is talking and all he does is nod, effectively confirming it, all the while wishing he could simply disappear. Because there’s no way Liz won’t find out. There’s no way everyone won’t find out. And when they do, his cover is gone. And he’ll be exposed before the world. And it’s the worst thing imaginable because he already knows what’s about to happen.

The pitying looks.

The smug smirks.

He’ll go back to being “that kid” again. The kid with the too small clothes. The kid with the broken shoes. The kid without a family, the kid who gets the leftovers and the hand-me-downs. The one they glance at uncomfortably, because he looks so sad and they’re torn between feeling sorry for him, yet too selfish to really want to do anything to help...it’s the way people are.

It’s the way Katheryn was when he finally told her the truth—she’d been disgusted, upset that she let him get so close to her and the things she’d said…that he was garbage, worse than—that how dare he believe she would even consider him.

.

.

“Liz!”

She’s baking in the kitchen when Jolene comes running in. “Oh my God, I just got the BEST story, you’ll never believe this!”

“Believe what?”

“You know the quarterback everyone is talking about? Travis? I just got an interview with him and Michelle! Turns out, he’s living here!”

“WHAT?!”

At that, Liz stops what she’s doing. “What do you mean, _living_ here?”

“I mean, apparently he’s a foster care kid. He doesn’t have any family and since the dorms are closed for Christmas he’s been living here for about a week now, and…Liz?”

But she’s not listening. Instead, Liz takes off her apron and goes out into the lobby searching. No Travis.

 She asks the front desk clerk.

“I’m looking for Travis Fimmel.”

The lady points. “Rec center.”

 She goes there, and stops when she reaches the door. Travis is talking to Michelle, and Liz blinks a few times, trying to figure out what exactly is going on. The ringing in her ears is loud, and it feels as if she’s walking through sand. Her feet are heavy, and she can hear the rush of her own blood, feel the pounding of her own heart…

“Travis?”

They both look up at the sound of her voice.

“Oh, Travis, this is Liz, she’s one of our volunteers.” Michelle drags him over and makes introductions, oblivious to what’s going on.

He looks down at Liz, and what she sees in his face almost breaks her as she stares up at him, his image beginning to become blurry…

Michelle looks at the two of them, confused. “Do you two know each other?”

“Michelle, can you give me a minute?” He asks tersely, and she looks at him, surprised, but goes.

“Mufa,” Liz says, voice shaking along with her hands. “What’s going on?”

He exhales, looking at the ground, knowing it’s about to be the end. That he’s caught, and he can’t lie anymore.

 “I should probably tell you something.”


	20. Chapter 20

She’s crying silently, the tears rolling down her cheeks as Travis talks, staring at the wall. They’re at her house, sitting across from each other—he on the couch, she on the sofa.

“Why didn’t you _say_ anything?” She asks, hurt that he would keep something like this from her. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me?” So much makes sense now. The way he sometimes looked sad when she talked about her family. The startled look on his face when she brought him shoes…

That memory makes her burn with shame as she realizes what she did—how she likely made him feel, but she didn’t know—she just wanted to do something nice for him…

“Would you have still been with me if you knew?” Travis asks, bitterly.  

He didn’t want her to think he wasn’t worthy of her. He wanted her to love him for what and who he is, not where he comes from or what he does and doesn’t have and…

“Travis,” Liz says, getting up walking up to him, raising his face to hers.

“I love you. I love you still.”

“But why? _Why_ do you love me, Liz? I can’t do anything _for_ you. I don’t have anything to _give_ you.” His light blue eyes are red rimmed, as he glances up at her, then back down.

“You’ve done everything for me,” she tells him firmly. “You make me happy. You make me feel whole. You make me laugh and I love the way you make love to me—intellectually and physically,” she says, stroking his face, and his chin, softly. “My _parents_ have money. _I_ don’t. And all it means is that we can build something, for ourselves, _together_.”

Together.

Travis rests his head on Liz’s stomach, arms around her hips. She strokes his head, fingers light and caressing through his hair.

“Tell me,” she says. “I want to know. What happened to you?”

So he does. Haltingly. He tells her what he remembers. About the farm. The animals they had. But he starts to cry when he speaks of the rest of it—the things he’s never told anyone. How he found his parents, ‘sleeping’ together, his mom slumped over his dad on the couch. He tells her how he tried, and tried to wake them up, but they wouldn’t. And so he just curled up with them to try and keep them warm, even when they became cold.

“My aunt found me two days later,” he says. “When she called I answered the phone.”

And Aunt Jackie had taken him in immediately. Later, he learned the truth, piece-by-piece, but was too young to fully process it, or understand how they died until he was older. Overdoses. The both of them. He learned about overdoses in his D.A.R.E. class in middle school, and asked Aunt Jackie about it.

“I had her from the time I was five until I was 13,” he tells Liz, softly, remembering the day he came home to find Jackie asleep in her bed. But when he saw her, he knew she wasn’t asleep. That she was dead.

“They said it was a blood clot,” he shakes his head, remembering the way he was told to pack his clothes, and was taken to a house and put with people he’d never seen before. Or since. They were nice. They fed him, gave him a bed until the state had a hearing and he was told that whatever other family he had, they didn’t want him. And the foster family he stayed with, it was only temporary.

“So they put me in another home,” he tells Liz. Another family. This time three months. But then that family adopted a child and didn’t have room for him anymore, so he was moved again.

He remembers words like adoption—and how, for a year, he’d hoped that one of these families, in these big, beautiful houses with lots of other kids would want him to stay—but as he bounced from place-to-place, he realized, it wasn’t going to happen.

“The young ones are the lucky ones,” he tells “The younger, the better. No one wants the older kids. We’re just checks.”

And along with being a check, sometimes, he was the joke—the “visitor” some said to their friends, showing him off as a good deed, a piece of charity they could use to impress. And one home was the worst—the kids taunted him, teased him and he was so grateful when a bed came available in a state-run group home.

By then, he was 15, a sophomore in high school, but he’d moved around so much he was basically a full year behind. So he played catch-up. Taking every class he could—coming to school before and staying afterward. He took summer school too—for the kids who failed classes, and those like him, who needed to catch up, and he did. Junior year, and he had no friends, but he did have interests. In middle school, Aunt Jackie let him play football, and he longed to do it again.

So he tried out—and he got on the team. But when it came time to pay for his pads and his equipment… he couldn’t do it on his own. And that state wouldn’t. Yet he had teachers and a principal, and he was a good student—didn’t make trouble, and somehow, it got done so that he could play.

He played. He practiced and he went to class and he played and went home.

“I knew what my options were,” he says. “I knew I had to do it for myself because I didn’t have, and I don’t have anyone to help me.”

So he worked his ass off, and when he graduated there were offers, academic and athletic. So he went with the place that offered the most, and he stumbled onto another option too—it was the recruiter who told him point-blank, “I can get you an additional scholarship,” he’d said. “You’d qualify for a minority scholarship if you come here, which would allow you to get money back each semester—support yourself, for a change.”

“I took it,” Travis says. “And I haven’t looked back. And I won’t look back. Liz,” this time he meets her eyes, soft and brown, and watery, and slightly red and he grimaces, thinking that she too, like the others, is pitying him.

“I don’t want you feeling sorry for me.”

“I don’t,” she tells him, taking Travis into her arms. He leans his head against her chest, hearing her heart beat. Strong. Steady. Sure.

“I admire you.”

They stay like that, shedding tears, until she’s cried out, and he is too. Eventually, they move to the bedroom and settle down on the bed. She curls up against him, into the warmth of his body.

 “Everyone will know, now,” he shudders, realizing the full burden of his secret—the weight of carrying it around for years. The only people before Liz who really knew were Katheryn and James.  ____ only knew his classification.  And James. But now, the reporter knows, and Travis is dreading what shows up in the paper.

“It’s okay,” Liz tells him, finding his hand and stroking his fingers and the back of his neck gently. She knows he’s scared. And she is too, for this and other reasons. “We’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. I’ve got you.”

It’s all he can do to cling to Liz, to hold on to something solid, even as everything else begins to become uneven.

They’re both tired.

But the next day, his phone starts ringing.

And ringing.

And ringing.

He knows the story is out. And he’s never felt worse.

.

.

“So what has Liz said about this guy?” Carl asks gruffly, stirring the large pot of gumbo bubbling on the stove.

“Well, all I know is he’s white,” Rose says. “She likes him though.”

“A _white_ guy?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Ann asks, raising an eyebrow archly. Ann is Carl’s mother-in-law, Rose’s mom. Her look silences him for the moment, and he goes back to stirring the gumbo, but glowering.

“I don’t like him,” he says.

“You don’t even know him!” Ann says, slightly offended.

“I don’t have to know him—he’s not good enough for Liz, and she can do better.”

“Carl,” Rose says, sounding annoyed. “Shut up. They’re here.”

 They look up to see the white Acura pull into the driveway.

Liz pops out the drivers’ side, and Travis climbs out, gawking at the large house looming in front of him. A brick and wood Tudor-style that sits at the end of a long drive, lined on both sides with trees. It sits on a large lot—at least three acres, and the houses around them are equally grand in scale—a far cry from the places he grew up in. His aunt’s apartment was small, but cozy and warm, and the foster houses he was in for a while, where mostly nice places. But this…these are the sorts of homes he knows rich people live in. And it just stokes his own insecurities. But it’s too late to go back. He’s here. And at least he’s got on the shoes Liz bought him—the ones with no holes.

There are a three other cars parked in the circular driveway and it’s clear, if Liz’s car wasn’t obvious enough, that this family has money. 

“It’s okay,” Liz says, coming around to hold his hand and seeing the nervousness and doubt on his face, “my family won’t bite.”

He goes with her up to the door, and when it opens, an absolutely stunning second version of Liz with ice white hair and flawless, radiant brown skin is standing there with open arms.

She pulls him right into a warm hug.

“You must be Travis,” she says. “I’m Rose.”

“Is that Liz?”

Another voice calls from somewhere in the back of the house, and he’s surprised again as an equally beautiful, if not slightly older version of Liz’s mom appears, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Give him here,” she commands and Rose lets go, only for Travis to be pulled into another, even tighter, embrace.  “I’m Ann,” she says before reaching for her granddaughter, whose smiling, happily. They hug, and afterward, Rose and Liz do too.

“Travis, this is my mom Rose and my grandma Ann,” she introduces. “Where’s grandpa and daddy?”

At the word “daddy” a tall, dark-skinned man twice Travis’s size comes thumping down the hall.

“Is that my baby?” Carl’s deep voice booms as he sees his daughter and picks her up, twirling her around. She giggles, and gives him another hug.

“Daddy, this is Travis, Travis, Carl, my dad.”

Carl stares at him hard and Travis stops himself from shifting his feet and braves it, extending his hand. They shake, and he winces—Carl’s grip is hard, and the man’s hand nearly engulfs his. Everything about Carl is big and commanding, but the older man grins suddenly.

“Strong grip,” he says approvingly, sizing Travis up.

He’s usually a man to follow his first instincts, and seldom have they been wrong. And he sees in this younger man, something far different than what he’d initially assumed when Rose told him who his daughter was dating.

“Nice to meet you, son.” He says.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Call me Carl,” he says. “Only people who say ‘sir’ are servants and slaves. And none of those are reside here.”

Travis feels himself relaxing.

“Well, what the hell have you dragged up in here?” Another male voice and they all look up as a short, light-skinned man with cropped gray hair comes sauntering inside, carrying a beer.

He comes up to Travis and extends a hand. “I’m Sal, Liz’s grandpa.”

Travis shakes it, surprised at the feel of Sal’s hands. Rough. Strong, calloused. Working hands.

“I’m Travis, Liz’s uh…friend.”

“Boyfriend.” She corrects as she kisses Sal on the cheek. “Hi grandpa.”

They hug too, and Sal’s attention goes back to Travis.

“I’ma just take this fella right here,” he says, slapping a hand across Travis’s back. “Carl, come on. We’ve got some stuff to talk about.”

Travis shoots Liz a worried look as he’s shepherded down the hall, but she smiles innocently and blows him a kiss.

“Beer?” Carl asks, opening the fridge.

“Um…”

Seeing the uncertainty, Sal chuckles. “Don’t worry, we’re not gonna kill you. Just get you drunk so we can get information about what you’re intentions are with my granddaughter.”

Carl hands him a Miller, and the men go outside while the women settle in the living room.

.

.

“So, how’s school?” Rose asks, peering at her daughter, examining her closely. Ann is doing the same thing.

They both notice differences. Liz looks happier, they think. Her face is flushed, skin glowing—looking like a girl in love.

“It’s going. I had a pretty good semester. Three A’s, two B’s.”

“Good,” Ann says approvingly. “And the internship?”

At that, Liz grins and starts to tell them all about the story she helped break—the FBI investigating members of the city commission.

“And Travis?” Ann asks. “Tell me about how you two met. He’s handsome.”

So, she does, recounting their initial reactions to each other. Both Rose and Ann laugh.

“He seems like a nice boy,” Rose says, still sensing something is a bit…off. But she can’t quite put her finger on it.

“Well, what I want to know is, are you having sex?”

It’s Ann. Leave it to the matriarch to cut straight to the chase. At the bluntness of the question, Liz blushes. A real, actual blush. She’s not dark enough to hide it, and at the silence, Ann and Rose arch an eyebrow, honing in quickly.

This time, mother and grandmother take a good, hard look at Liz noticing other things…like, how she looks a little…fuller…

“Elizabeth,” Rose lets the name out slowly…already knowing what the likely answer is going to be.

“Yes mommy?”

“Are you two having sex?”

“Yes.” A whisper.

“Um hmm…”Ann is now eying her hard…“Is it _good_ sex?”

Oh God. Liz tries to shrink back, but there’s really no place to hide—and her mother and grandmother are tapping around a really sensitive subject and though they’ve talked about sex a lot, she absolutely DOES NOT want to discuss Travis like this and…

At the silence, mother and daughter glance at each other. Rose motions to Liz with her eyes. Ann, tilts her head, and relents. For now.

“Well, as long as you two are being practical about it. You already know what happens when you have good sex. Good sex means babies.”

.

.

“So, you’re the guy having sex with my granddaughter.”

Travis snorts the beer out of his nose, the fermented liquid burning his sinuses and seeping down his throat, causing a half-sputter and a choke at Sal’s blunt line of questioning. He glances back toward the house in a furtive call for help, but he and Liz are separated and he’s pretty much trapped with his girlfriend’s father and grandfather staring intently at him.

“Um…I—uh…” It’s just all stammering, and Carl is scowling at him as Sal takes a casual sip of his beer, watching Travis squirm.

There’s a brief spell of uncomfortable silence as Travis tries to figure out how and whether to even attempt an answer.

“We’re...dating,” he finishes, neither confirming nor denying.”

“So, just dating, huh?” Sal again. “You know, men only date for fun. Are YOU dating for fun?”

 No. It’s not…fun,” Travis hedges.

“Oh? Liz isn’t a _fun_ person to be around?” Goddamit it’s Carl. Both elder men are now coming at him, making Travis confused as he struggles to answer the questions. “She’s bright and smart and talented and happy—what’s not fun about her?”

“That’s not quite what I meant…”

“Then what DID you mean?” Carl challenges. “Around here, we say what we mean, and we mean what we say. So I’ll say it—what are you trying to do with my daughter, Travis?”

“I’m--” What is he trying to do? Travis knows the answer, he’s just scared to say it. Sal is slowly rocking in a porch chair, peering at him over his beer. Carl has lit a cigar and the smoke from it damn near makes him choke. Both men watch him intently.

“I’m trying to keep her,” he says quietly.

“Say what, now?” Carl again.

“I’m trying to keep her,” Travis says, finding his voice again.

 They quiet, and Sal and Carl glance at each other, then at Travis, approvingly.

“Good answer,” Carl says, slapping him on the back and grinning. Sal smirks.

“So what you’re really trying to say,” Sal says taking a sip of beer, “Is that you’re trying to _court_ her—not date her.”

“What’s the difference? Travis asks curiously. This time, both Carl and Sal answer at the same time.

“You date for sex. You court for marriage.”

Travis’ eyes go wide, in understanding. He quickly takes a sip of beer, unsure how they got to marriage so quickly.

Carl and Sal look at him and start laughing.

“Don’t freak out, Travis,” Carl says. “I didn’t say you have to marry her tomorrow. It’s not like she’s pregnant.”

.

.

Dinner is great—and afterward, he’s stuffed, which, considering his daily regime, is saying a lot. But Travis has eaten some of everything Rose and Ann have fixed, leaving him, Sal and Carl to just sort of roost on their chairs.

Mother, daughter and grandmother look at all three and shake their heads.

“That’s a damn shame,” Rose offers.

“You three look pitiful.”

They’re sitting there, slumped, heads back and groaning with bellies distended. Eventually they start moving, but only to find their ways to bed.

 Travis just assumes he’s going with Liz, but Ann catches him before he reaches the stairwell.

“No funny business,” she warns. “Doors open. We’ve got ears.”

Liz blushes again, and Travis cringes, but they both nod obediently.

And when he wakes in the morning, Liz is gone, and Carl is looking down at him in the bed, arms crossed.

“Sleep good?”

Travis gets up fast, immensely glad he slept in sweat pants and a t-shirt.

 “Yes.”

“Good. Get dressed. Meet us downstairs.”

He does and when he reaches the bottom floor, Sal and Carl are there dressed in waders.

“What’s going on?”

“Going fishing. You’re coming,” Sal says, tossing him a pair. Travis puts them on. They’re an older pair, but they fit and he gets them on.

Two of the cars have been moved and when they step into the garage, he gapes at the oversized, black-on-black Ford Super Duty parked inside. It’s clean, with black matching rims and next to it, a sleek, cruiser-style boat, also immaculate.

Holy shit.

“Close your mouth or catch a fly,” Sal laughs, climbing into the truck on the passenger side. More than a bit intimidated, Travis opens the back door of the cab and gets in too.

They end up backing up to a lake, and Travis helps to the best of his ability helping guide the motor boat into the water. Once in, Carl parks and he and Sal climb out and walk over, with rods and tackle boxes. Travis follows them and all three board. Sal steers them out into the middle the lake and kills the motor. All around is quiet.

“So Travis, what of your family?” Sal asks.

This time, when he cringes, Carl catches it.

“What’s wrong?”

Liz must not have told them…which means he has too.

“I don’t have a family.”

“How don’t you have a family? Your parents?” It’s Sal again. But Travis exhales and just tells them straight up, providing the abbreviated version.

“My parents died when I was five. My mom’s sister took me in, but she died when I was 13 and I ended up in state care,” he says, knowing he’s subjecting himself to judgment. But surprisingly, that’s not what he gets.

Instead, a large hand clasps him on the shoulder and he looks into Carl’s dark eyes.

“Then you’ve got grit,” the older man says. “Seems like a hard life that would have broken a lesser person. But you’re not broken.”

Travis considers it. No, he’s not.

“What do you want out of life, Travis?” Sal asks him.

“I want…” a pause. “I want to be successful. I don’t want my kids to grow up like I did. I want to take care of myself and the person I’m with and…”

“You want to take care of Elizabeth?” Her father asks. And he nods. “I want to take care of Liz too. I want to be worthy of her.”

Sal and Carl look at each other, surprised, yet pleased.

“I think you already are,” Sal tells him.

They get home around 6 that evening, and, after gutting and cleaning the fish—a task Travis is surprised he doesn’t find repulsive—they go in the house to find Ann and Rose watching Star Trek in the living room.

“Where’s Liz?” Carl asks, kissing his wife.

“She’s asleep.”

“Asleep? It’s only 6!”

“She’s been sleeping a lot lately,” Travis offers. They all look at him a moment, and once again, he gets the sense he’s under inspection.

“How long has this been going on?” Ann asks gently.

“Ah…” he considers, trying to figure out when he first noticed—the day he ended up calling Kelly. “For the last two months or so?”

Liz sleeps through the rest of the night.

Travis gets a shower, changes clothes, even checks on her briefly before heading back downstairs.

Sal, Ann, Carl and Rose teach him the family dice game and it ends in him winning and Carl fussing about “beginner’s luck.”

He has a good night hanging out with them. And they’re all laughing and chatting downstairs, as Liz slumbers away upstairs.

.

.

“Lovie?”

She moans as she rolls over and into the warm spot her boyfriend has abandoned.

Travis is concerned, but he’s already checked and she doesn’t have a fever, and he doesn’t think she’s sick she’s just…almost like sleeping beauty. But at least when he kisses her, it rouses her a bit.

“I’m going downstairs,” he says the next morning, brushing her hair away from her face and kissing her forehead.

She mumbles something unintelligible and wraps the blankets around her body, looking a bit like a tamale.

“Where’s Liz?” Ann asks—the family is in the kitchen and there’s coffee brewing. He’s been here now four days and knows the drill. Feed thyself. Rose hands him a coup and he gets a fresh pour.

“Still asleep,” he tells them.

“Oh, this is ridiculous. Travis, I’m sure you like us, but I’m also sure you didn’t come to watch Liz sleep,” Rose says, slipping out the kitchen.

“Elizabeth Joy Dubek, Get UP.” She commands, searching for her daughter under the mass of blankets and pillows, excavating until she sees the dark curls emerge.

A moan. Rose isn’t swayed.

“Get. UP, and get dressed. Right _now_.”

Reluctantly, Liz sticks her head out.

“Why? What are we doing?” she yawns, pulling on a pair of jeans as her mother watches, arms crossed.

She ushers her daughter down the stairs and into the kitchen before leaving to make a quick call. When Rose comes back, she’s got her purse and keys in hand.

“Come on Liz, mom? Are you coming?”

“Oh! Yes,” Ann says, grabbing her purse too.

 Liz follows confusedly.

“Where are they going?” Sal asks.

Carl shrugs. “Who knows? But, anyone want to do golf?”

.

.

They’re in the waiting room of Liz’s OBGYN and she’s nearly apoplectic but in no position to do anything about it. Her mother and grandmother are reading magazines, being extra casual leaving Liz to just stew, offended at their sneakiness.

“Elizabeth?”

A nurse calls for her and she considers not moving, but Rose is giving her the look and so, reluctantly, she goes.

“Let’s see, here for your annual?” The nurse says.

“Yes.”

They take her height, her weight, and finally, make her pee in a cup. When that’s done, she’s taken to the exam room and has to put on the paper gown.

Liz exhales, trying not to be nervous. But her leg is shaking, and it’s still shaking when her doctor walks in.

Dr. Marsulu, Rose’s doctor and hers.

“Elizabeth! Nice to see you. So what are we doing today?” he asks.

“The usual, I guess,” she tells him already knowing the drill. Lay back. Feet propped into stirrups. The actual scrape is always uncomfortable, but she breathes through it, trying to relax, but it feels as if Dr. Marsulu is taking way too long down there, and he’s pushing down on her belly with one hand, and listening with his stethoscope as well.

Eventually, he comes back up taking off his gloves and throwing them away before reaching for his chart and jotting something on his pad.

“So Liz,” he says, taking a seat as she sits back up. “How’s the semester going?”

“Pretty well,” she tells him. “It’s been busy, but I’ve got no complaints.”

“Uh huh,” he says. “That’s good. How have you felt lately?”

“Pretty good. A little tired, but other than that, I’ve been alright.”

“Any sickness?”

“No.”

“Nausea?”

“No.”

“When was your last cycle?”

At that one, she pauses, and the leg resumes its shaking.

“Uh…I might be a little late…”

“How long is a little?” Her doctor asks, nudging her along with his line of questioning.

“Just a week…or two…three…”

At that, Dr. Marsulu decides it’s just time to let her know.

“Well, it sounds to me like you might already suspect, so I’ll confirm it for you now. Elizabeth, you’re pregnant. I’d estimate you to be about six to eight weeks along.”

Liz goes quiet, chewing her bottom lip, leg shaking.

“How’d it go?” Ann asks, when Liz comes out.

“Oh, it went fine,” she says. “Dr. Marsulu says I’m healthy. Can we go, now?”

Ann and Rose exchange looks, but they decide now is not the time. Both of them already know. And like clockwork, just as she says she’s fine, Liz begins to get nauseous on the car ride home. And she’s the first person out of the car, but doesn’t make it two steps, before she’s throwing up in the front yard.

.

.

“Alright. What did Dr. Marsulu REALLY say?” Rose says once they’re inside, and Liz has finished heaving. The men are gone, leaving the women alone.

 In shame, Liz hangs her head.

“Elizabeth,” Ann cajoles. “How far along are you?”

“Six weeks.”

“I knew it!” Rose exclaims triumphantly. But Ann calms that by swatting her daughters arm. Because Liz is now curled up on the couch, legs tucked underneath her, looking sad.

“Aw chicken,” grandma says, going to sit next to her granddaughter. Liz unfurls and goes into her arms, the first sniffle coming through. Eventually, Rose starts to feel a bit bad and comes over too, stroking her baby’s hair.

“Have you told Travis,” she asks. That gets a choked sob. And Liz shakes her head.

“I can’t,” she says, the words muffled.

“Why not? I think he deserves to know. Are you afraid?” Ann asks.

“No. It’s not that,” Liz says, sitting up and wiping her eyes.

“Then why can’t you tell him?”

“Because…”

“Because why, chicken?” Rose now. Both she and Ann look at Liz, now settled between the both of them.

“Because we…can’t.”

Both Rose and Ann are confused, and quietly, Liz tells them everything. About how Travis lied to her about going to see his family over the break, and how she found him at the shelter, and…

 “He was five when his parents died,” she says. “He was 13 when his aunt, who took care of him died too ‘and he was bounced in and out of foster care, until he was sent to a group home when he was 15. Everything he’s gotten he’s had to do for himself, and I know he’s sensitive about it and I know we’re in trouble, but I also know he’s sincere, and he’s determined, and I know…” Her voice starts shaking along with her leg, and she starts to tear up as she talks—finding herself defending Travis and by extension, herself…

She’s trying and it’s Ann who stops her.

“You don’t have to say anymore. We understand. Come here,” her grandmother says and she does, and when the guys come home, Ann and Rose look at them and put their fingers to their lips. Liz is sleeping, her head on Rose’s lap, her legs draped across Ann.

 “I can take her,” Travis volunteers, and so, they shift enough that he can pick Liz up and carry her to bed, tucking her in before coming back downstairs.

“Carl, did you know? About Travis?” Rose asks, later that night, as they’re getting ready for bed.

He nods, knowing what she’s talking about. “He told me and Sal the other day. I like him. Like his spirit,” he says. “Seems like all the kid wants is a shot.”

Rose nods. “Well, I think we’re going to have him for a while,” she comments, casting a look at her husband. He’s perfectly oblivious. “I don’t mind. I like the boy.”

She chuckles a bit, “I’m glad you do, grandpa.”

Carl pauses, trying to figure out what his wife is talking about. She’s smirking at him.

“What? Is Liz…WHAT?!”

“Shh…keep your voice down! And yes, she is. That’s why she’s been sleeping. And NO—you will not touch Travis,” she commands, seeing the angry glare in her husband’s face.

“He doesn’t know and she hasn’t told him and you absolutely _will not_ either. Do you understand?” Rose’s eyes narrow at him in warning and one look lets him know she’s serious. But that doesn’t mean he’s any less salty.

“Fine. I’m not saying anything. But I don’t like him anymore.”

“Oh, please,” Rose rolls her eyes. “You were ready to practically adopt him before I told you. Besides, we had Liz when we were just a year older than her. It’s not that different. And if I recall, I think everyone thought Liz was just born premature when she was actually right on time,” she adds, more serious now.

“Liz is _scared_ , Carl.  She’s afraid Travis is going to be scared too. You know his situation as well as I do. So don’t make the boy any more terrified than he already is, and will be. No need to make it worse.”

Carl nods, turning off the lights and they climb into bed. He considers it all recalling what Travis had said. That he wanted to be able to take care of Liz. Be worthy of her. And he thinks the final determination of Travis’s worth will be when and how he reacts to the news of impending parenthood. _For Travis’s sake_ , Carl thinks, he better respond correctly, because if he doesn’t, there will be hell to pay.

But for his wife, he holds his tongue…for now, though the more he dwells on it…the angrier he becomes.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My bad for the delay...I'm running into some continuity issues on the back half of this I am trying to fix. Also--apparently we've gone from Liz and Travis being juniors at the start of this story, to Travis being a senior...yeah...gotta fix that too. This is what happens when the idea flows faster than the execution--look out for revisions once this thing is complete.

The first swell of nausea hits in the morning, rousing Liz from sleep and sending her running to the bathroom. Travis comes up behind her, as she heaves over the toilet.

 “Lovie, what’s going on? You’ve been off for weeks now.”

She starts to say something, but another wave hits, sending her to her knees, face down. After an extended bout of gagging, she gets up, trembling.

“I’m okay,” she rasps, shaking hands reaching for mouthwash and gargling quickly, chasing it with another gargle of water, before wiping her mouth.

Travis knows she’s lying. First the sleeping. Now the throwing up.

“No, you’re not.” He crosses his arms.

They’re back home now, having bid goodbye to Liz’s parents and grandparents yesterday afternoon. She knew she didn’t want to tell Travis while they were there, and she also knew the conversation needed to happen sooner, rather than later.

It’s Sunday. Her cycle is beyond overdue, but that doesn’t matter. Her doctor has told her she’s between six and eight weeks pregnant. Truthfully, she thinks it’s closer to eight.  

Amazing really, to consider it took them even that long, because she honestly cannot recall whether they’ve ever used anything. She knows she never thought about it, and she’s pretty sure Travis didn’t either. It had all been so…intense.

“Liz, tell me what’s going on.” He says calmly. “I know something is wrong. You’ve been sleeping a lot, and now you’re sick.”

‘Travis, I’m not sick, I’m…” she looks at him, those light blue eyes searching hers for answers and so she gives them.

“I’m pregnant.”

“I need…to…sit,” he stumbles back and onto the bed, in shock.

It’s like an anchor dropping in his stomach as he realizes exactly how reckless they’ve been. And his own fears  come crashing in as he sees how fragile their relationship is, how delicate it’s become, and he knows that as of right now, he’s in no position to take care of Liz, or his baby, and it makes him want to cry because that’s really all he wants to do, and he can’t.

He knows it. And when he asks how long she’s known, and she tells him that she knew weeks ago it’s even worse—conformation that she didn’t tell him because she knew there is no way he can take care of this baby when he can’t even take care of himself.

.

.

“Have we ever?” She asks, quietly, as they sit together on the bed. She’s in his lap, his arms around her, rubbing her stomach.

“I…don’t think so.”

“It…was an accident…” Liz murmurs, trying to convince herself that’s true…

“An…accident,” he says, hands stilling.

“Right?” Liz looks down at her hands, over his.

But, at that one, he doesn’t answer.

‘Accident’ is a convenient excuse for what they’ve done. But the truth, if they scratch a little deeper, is far more complicated than, ‘an accident’.

They know.

 “What do you want to do?” He looks at her, hoping she’ll be the one to say it, because he can’t. A shift to stretch his legs. Liz is between them, nestled against his chest, and his fingers graze her belly. He can’t believe he didn’t notice until now, and with a grimace, remembers the way Liz’s parents and grandparents had stared at him when he’d told them how long her sleeping had been going on—shit. They likely knew immediately, and it just makes him feel even worse. What must they think of him, now?

In his arms Liz is warm, soft. Her belly slightly round though. Like she’s just finished eating. Nothing big. Unnoticeable to most. What had he thought? Just that she was just sleepy because it’s been a long semester and so much has happened. Gently, he caresses, his hands staying right above her belly button. He’s attracted to it. But he knows he can’t get attached to the idea of it.

Neither one of them are in a position to do this.

“I’m not sure,” Liz says, hoping he’ll be the one to suggest it, so she won’t have to. They’re both looking to the other for the out—yet neither will give it.

“Babies are expensive,” he tells her.

“I don’t graduate until next year,” she tells him.

 “How will we…afford it?” He asks cautiously.

“Who will help us?” She ventures.

They’re asking the same question, posed various ways.

Still, he rubs her belly. And the feel of his hands there are soothing, even as she struggles with the idea that this, what they have right now, won’t be for long.

She doesn’t have health insurance—she lost that when she declared herself an independent her freshman year. There’s the paper, but she’s not a full-time employee—just a paid intern—making too much to qualify for the state’s Medicaid program but too little to get private insurance. It hadn’t mattered before; she could pay her two yearly doctor’s visits out of pocket, but it does now.

He has health insurance…sorta. The university pays medical expenses related to his status as a student-athlete and it comes with some general primary care, but nothing like this. Definitely, not this.

Before, she could comfortably afford her life, the only thing she had to worry about was herself. Now, she has a lot more to worry about. Herself, her baby, and her Travis.

Before, he had made it work—piecing together both academic and athletic scholarships along with federal and state grants, and his monthly stipend from the state. But he already knows the $3000 surplus he gets at the start of each semester won’t be nearly enough for this—to support a baby, and a girlfriend. He’s saved some—but even the few thousand he’s got holed up won’t stretch far enough. He also turns 22 in a few weeks, and he knows the monthly stipend he gets from the state is about to be done.

What if something goes wrong? There’s doctor’s visits and medical and…eventually, daycare…

She really wants to finish her degree. She doesn’t want to be the first one in her family not to complete college in three generations.

He came here to earn a degree, create a future better than his past. He wanted to finish school, get a job, and stand on his own feet.

They’re both afraid.

 She knows the answer.

He does too.

“I’m sorry, Liz,” he tells her. “I didn’t mean to do this to you.”

She trembles in his arms and doesn’t hold back the tears. They have to make a decision. Each day they delay only makes it worse. The Semester starts January 15th. It’s December 30th. She’s seven weeks now, and will be nine when classes begin.

Dr. Marsulu did make one thing clear…whatever they decide they should do it sooner, rather than later.

But she knows it’s not his fault. Not all his fault. She knew they were out of control. Knew they were reckless. And responsibility falls to both of them. Not just one.

“I can help,” Travis says. “I can pay for it. And you won’t go alone.”

He ends up rocking her gently as she cries herself to sleep. He buries his own tears in her hair. He is trying hard to be supportive. Doing what he thinks he should do—even if it’s not what he wants to do.

Never has he loved a woman so much, but these last few weeks have been a rollercoaster of extremes.

**.**

**.**

They don’t sleep the night before. And they’re quiet the morning of. She clings to him, terrified, and he wears a brave, stoic face as they go, praying all the while there won’t be anyone there who recognizes him, or her.

It’s January 2nd. 8 a.m. When they pull up to the facility and go in, he’s relieved to see they’re the only ones there—for the time being. Liz’s grip on his hand is tight as she walks slowly up to the desk, and signs in.

“ID’s please?” The nurse says, glancing up and in her face, he can see the surprise—and the question, but she doesn’t ask.

“Just take a seat and you’ll be called back, shortly.”

They do. Liz lays her head on his shoulder, her knee jumping. He puts a hand there, stilling her.

“Dubek?”

A tall, red-haired nurse in purple scrubs sticks her head out and they both get up and go. She too, looks at Travis.

“Relation?” She asks—eyeing him.

“He’s…my boyfriend,” Liz tells her, squeezing his hand and Travis nods in confirmation. The nurse jots something down in her notepad and guides them to a room.

“Alright,” she says, pointing to the bed. I need you there. We just need to do an ultrasound to see how far along you are.”

An ultrasound.

Liz looks at Travis and bites her lip, but cautiously, she does as told, handing him her jacket and laying back on the table as the nurse prepares the jelly and gets the monitor into position.

She lifts her shirt.

 The jelly is cold and wet against her skin, and the nurse’s hands are clinical in their touch, firm. She feels as if she’s being prodded, like she’s not really a person—it feels rote, and she knows for the nurse, she’s just another girl in an unfortunate situation. It’s likely she’s just the first…patient? Customer? Of the day, and she imagines that her nurse has done so many of these things that it’s just a habit.

But it’s her first, and she has already decided, only time and so she looks away as the nurse focuses on whatever she’s looking at…

“Alright. Got it. It looks like you’re actually closer to nine weeks,” the nurse says, examining a screen that’s turned away from them.

“Can I see?”

Both Travis and the nurse look at her, and the nurse’s voice loses just a bit of its hardness.

“That’s um…not usually how we do it around here.”

But Liz is firm.

“I want to see it.”

Travis gets up and comes over to her, and she looks up at him.

“I want to know what it looks like,” she whispers. “I just want to see who we made.”

Not what.

Who.

“Liz” he whispers back, the breath raspy. “Are you sure?”

He can see the pools in her eyes and he doesn’t want her to start crying again—they’ve done so much of it these past few days. She nods and he takes her hand in his, rubbing the back of it.

“I want to see, too,” he tells the nurse.

She looks at both of them, pursing her lips and shaking her head.

“I need to check with the physician,” she says before leaving. When she’s gone, Travis tries to see what’s on the screen but to both of their disappointment, it’s dark again.

“What are we doing?” Liz ask hesitantly.  “Are we sure?”

He’s about to speak, when the nurse comes back into the room, the doctor, a short woman with a far more kindly disposition, behind her.

 The doctor settles into a chair.

“Ms. Dubek?” She asks.

Liz nods.

“Are you nervous?”

“Yes. I…” she looks to Travis, “we…just want to see…”

“We’re not here to hurt you,” the doctor says. And we want you to be secure in your choice.” She gets up and comes over, a tablet in hand.

“Here,” she says, showing the both of them the image—it’s a minute-long loop, a video, in black-and-white. As Liz and Travis look on, the doctor points to the image on screen, and shows them what’s what.

“There is the sack,” she says, pointing to a black area in the video, and here, that pea-shaped thing? That’s the embryo.”

They see it clearly, as if it’s just floating inside the sack, not really a form but a general shape and…

“Travis?” Liz is looking up at him and when he meets her eyes he already knows. They’ve had doubts all along, and despite it, have tried hard to be practical. To be…responsible. To lead with their heads and not their hearts because their hearts got them into this in the first place, but now that they’re here, in this cold, antiseptic space, and their staring at what they made he knows exactly what she’s going to say. But he wants her to say it—be the one to do it, because in the end, it’s Liz’s decision, her body, her experience and… “I don’t want to do this.”

Relief.

Travis leans down and kisses her forehead, stroking her hair.

“Then we won’t,” he tells her. “We’ll find another way.”

The doctor watches them, quietly. But she’s a professional, and so whatever thoughts she may have, she won’t reveal.

The nurse in the room hangs back, also eyeing them, and feeling a little…emotional.

It’s rare this sort of thing happens.

Usually, the women come alone. Or with a female friend.

Seldom, do they have their partners with them. And even less than that, are those partners supportive.

Rarely, do they change their minds.

.

.

Later that night, Liz makes a call. Facetime.

“Hi Mommy.”

Rose’s pretty face comes into view. “Hi chicken, how ya doing?”

“Okay. Is Daddy there?”

Rose draws a breath on the other end of the line. She’s been waiting for this call now for a week, waiting to see exactly what her daughter has decided to do. She’s got her own hopes, but at the end of the day, she has remained silent.

“Yes, he’s here. Do you want to speak with us both?”

Liz nods, “yes.”

There’s shuffling on the other side.

Liz and Travis are on her couch, and this time, it’s his turn to be extremely nervous, to the point his leg is jumping.

“Hey, chicken,” Carl’s deep, resonant voice comes through.

“Hi Daddy. Mom—Travis is with me over here,” she says, glancing at him. He nods. “Hi Rose, Hi Carl.”

“Travis.” Liz’s father says, slightly curtly, immediately frowning. Not a good sign. Ever since Rose told him, he’s vacillated between anger and disbelief, but has yet to come to acceptance, and that was a week ago. She’s his only child. His…baby….his…chicken… and this is the LAST thing he ever expected his daughter to do.

“So, what’s going on?”

Liz starts to speak, but Travis does, before she gets the chance.

“We’re…going to have a baby,” he says, speaking faster to just get it out.

Rose visibly blanches and they watch as Carl exhales deeply, looks up at the ceiling…then back at them, the glare so intense it makes the two of them look away in shame.

The frown has becomes a glower, and his eyes narrow at the screen at his daughter and her…whatever the fuck he is.

“YOU are not having a damn thing,” he says to Travis through clenched teeth. “So, how are you two going to pay for it?”

Liz cringes. “Daddy…”

“Don’t ‘daddy’ me,” he snaps, growing angrier by the second. “ _What_ did you two expect, fucking raw? We ‘ain’t Catholics! Did you ever stop and _think_ , at all? I’m not going to sit here and be nice like your mother. Elizabeth, I’m disappointed. I know I raised you better than to let some joker nut in you, and Travis,” Carl scowls into the screen, making Travis wince, “you better thank whatever god you worship you’re not here right now.”

At this point, Liz has buried her face into his shoulder and is crying silently as he holds her, feeling the thrash as each of Carl’s words cut him. But Liz’s father isn’t done yet.

 “I get you’ve had it rough. But you of all people should have known better. You have a kid on the way. So for _your_ sake, I hope you’re ready to handle it. And I fully expect for _you_ to handle it,” he says. “Goodnight.”

“Carl!!” They hear Rose in the background and then, the beginnings of an argument right as the screen goes dark.  Eventually, they hang up, upset to hear her parents yelling at each other.  

But Carl is correct, and Travis knows it. He knew it when Liz told him, and it’s just been reaffirmed. He’s got to find a way to take care of Liz—because her father has made it abundantly clear they’re on their own.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anyone still reading?

January 5th. The dorms are open. Finally, and when he tells her where he’s going, she looks sad.

“I’ll be back,” he tells her. “I just need time to think. Please?”

A nod. He hugs her tight.

“Do you want me to take you back?”

“No. I’ve got it.”

He calls for an Uber and is among the first athletes in the dorm.

It’s been three weeks since he was by himself. And Travis has only days to figure this out. The semester begins the 15th.

 The room feels…small. And as he looks around it, he’s reminded yet again of how little-to-nothing he’s got. There’s has to be something the can do…some way he can help support his soon-to-be family…

There’s a knot in his throat, and he tries, but can’t swallow it down.

Family.

He blinks, hard. Tired of crying—men aren’t supposed to cry and there’s been way too much of that lately.  But still, he can’t deny it feels like a dream. What he always wanted, in so many ways. He just never thought it would happen quite like this. At this particular moment.

It got real two days ago, when he had seen his baby growing in Liz. A life so delicate and tiny…and when he thinks how close they came to snuffing it out, it nearly brings him down.

But they didn’t. They’re in it, together and he’s committed—no turning back.

There’s got to be a way.

He’s laying on the bed, legs dangling, when his phone vibrates.

At first, he ignores it. But it starts up again, and eventually he looks.

James.

He hasn’t seen or talked to James all break.

“Hello?”

“Man, I’m doing it.”

“Doing what?” Travis asks, no patience left to indulge his friend.

“I’m declaring for the draft!”

“What draft?”

“The NFL—I’m trying to go pro. Me and Kelly talked about it, and I talked to my family and…we’re going to do it,” James tells him, sounding excited.

 “That’s…great man.” It’s all he can muster.

“Yeah. Just had to tell you. We will be back tomorrow. I’ve got to meet with the coaches, the school…everything—you know the 18th is the last day to declare,” James says. “See ya’ll later.”

He hangs up, leaving Travis to stare at the phone, thinking.

He’s done in May. But he can’t go to class, take care of a baby and keep training all at the same time—not without an income. And he needs an income.

On the other hand…if he declares, he loses his football scholarship, and that will lower any money he gets back from the school—those scholarships are his livelihood…

And what are the chances, anyway?

There are lots of HBCU Football players in the league, but they’re like James—defensive lineman. And he’s offense, a quarterback…hell, the last HBCU quarterback was….who? When?

Working full-time at a gas station won’t cut it. Fast food won’t cut it.

There’s risk all around….

Should he declare and take a gamble? Roll, and see where it goes?

He doesn’t sleep that night. Instead, he stays up, making various charts—because he’s visual, and drawing it out has always helped—slowly he calculates—declare, or not? Safe, or risk?

The sun is coming up outside, as he continues to go back-and-forth about it. But he still can’t decide. He just doesn’t know which way to go. Or how to choose.

The last day to declare is the 18th.

Eventually, mentally exhausted, he climbs into bed and falls asleep.

Dreams come.

Of Liz. Her parents, smiling and happy. Of a soft, pudgy baby in her arms as she points to the field…he follows what she’s gesturing at, and sees himself, helmet, and pads…throwing…

The ball flies through the air, and is caught in the end-zone.

A touchdown. A win.

He watches this version of himself run to Liz and embrace her, taking off the helmet to kiss her…and he sees her hand, a large, sparkling ring on it, and he sees his baby—a girl, tiny hands on his face. And he sees Liz’s parents hugging them…they all look so happy.

It’s enthralling.

Travis has never been a person to search for signs. And he doesn’t consider himself religious. But when he wakes up a few hours later, and sees its only 2 p.m. he feels resolved.

This isn’t for him. It’s for Liz, and for his baby.

So he gets up and goes down to the field house and finds who he’s looking for.

His coach looks at him.

“You sure?”

“Very.” He’s firm. Committed in this. “I have too.”

Coach nods, then extends his hand. Travis shakes it.

“You’ve got use of the facilities for training,” the older man says. “Travis, this isn’t easy. You know you could go in a late round, or not at all….”

He nods. “I get the risks,” he says. “But I’ve got to do this.”

His coach helps him start the process, and he spends the rest of the day going from department-to-department.

The last stop is financial aid, where he meets with his social worker and tells her of the decision, dreading what she’s going to say. His birthday was January 8th. He’s 22 now. And that means…

“You’re last check will be sent to you at the end of the month.” she tells him.

He knew it going in, but now that it’s out…it lands hard. One month. All he’s got left.

“Is there anything I can do to…extend?” He asks, already knowing what the answer will be.

She shakes her head, and seeing his distress, puts a hand on his.

“You’ve been a model student, Travis. A model everything really. Most kids who grow up like you don’t make it, but you have. It’s five more months, and your room and meal plans, books, tuition—everything is covered. You can do it without the stipend.”

But he shakes his head. It’s not about the school thing, it’s about…

“But I _need_ it.”

“Well, unless you can convince the state to change the law to 22, there’s no way I can,” she says. “I’m sorry, hun.”

He nods, looking at his shoes.

“Is there anything I can do to help you? What’s wrong?” Great, now she’s worried, but he won’t say. It’s not his nature to talk about personal things, and he’s not going to start now.

“No, it’s alright. I’ll just have to make it work. Thanks, Mary Sue.”

It’s a blow.

The walk back to the dorms feels like the longest of his life, and he drops into bed and closes his eyes, contemplating. There’s the money he’s been able to save, but it’s not much, and he’s got no idea how much babies cost.

He still has his scholarships, thank God, and there’s still the net check he gets once the semester starts which should help, but his room and board were partially covered through the $1500/month stipend, and now that it’s gone…so is a significant chunk of the income he’d hoped would give him more wiggle room to care for his girlfriend. But that’s out of the equation now.

That net check is going to be a lot smaller.

That night, he calls Liz. And he tells her everything. She stops him mid-sentence, already knowing where he’s going.

“Stay with me.”

“What about Kelly?”

“We have three bedrooms. Three people, splitting rent three ways, but if you want, we’ll talk to her tomorrow when she gets home. We’ve got to tell her and James anyway—about everything.”

.

.

They’re home and Liz is finishing cooking when James and Kelly pull up. And when the door opens, Kelly inhales, stomach rumbling.

“Oh, I am SO happy you cooked!” She says, elbowing James. “He refused to stop for food until we got home. I’m starving!”

She drops her bags in the entry way and comes into the kitchen, hugging Liz and Travis while James shuffles in with more.

“So, did James tell you guys the news?”

They nod, and Liz bends down, sticking her mitten-covered hands into the oven and pulling out a casserole, placing it on the counter.

“Yeah, man, congrats, again,” Travis tells him again as they slap hands.

“Thanks. So, how was your break?” He asks, flopping into a chair at the table, as Kelly starts pulling down plates.

Travis and Liz look at each other.

“Uh…actually…that’s something we wanted to talk to you two about,” she says for the both of them.

.

.

Kelly squeezes James hand as they sit silently, listening as Travis and Liz drop several bombs on them at once.

“Just…can you think about it, Kelly?” Liz asks, biting her lip.

“Uh…yeah…” she says slowly, still somewhat dazed at it all. The break for she and James hasn’t been anywhere near as monumental and while yes, technically, Kelly was the one to tell Liz about her own pregnancy, it’s something completely different to hear her friend actually a) cop to it and b) say that they’re…keeping it.

She can only imagine if it were her and James in such as spot. And Travis…oh, god….

Later, as she and James snuggle in her room, she asks.

“Did you know? About Travis?”

He nods. “Yeah. He’s usually comes with me during the breaks.”

“And you didn’t SAY anything?”

“It wasn’t my place,” he tells her. “Travis is my best friend. I just…shit…I can’t believe they got themselves into something like this.”

They get quiet, and she nods.

“Did you know? About Liz?” James is looking at her and so, she nods.

“Yeah,” Kelly admits. “She was sleeping a lot, and I dunno…something just…Clicked. So I made her take a test and it was positive, but I don’t think she really believed me. She thought I was trying to fake a test for myself.”

“Wait—what?” At that one, James’ eyes go wide and she quickly backs up.

“No! I’M not pregnant.”

James exhales, hoping his balls will come back out of his body, and his stomach come back down from his chest.  Just the thought that happening is just…terrifying.

In hindsight…fixing Liz and Travis up together seemed like a good idea. But maybe it was _too_ good.

“So, what do you think?” She asks. “About Travis moving in here, with me and Liz?”

James squeezes her shoulders, kisses her forehead. “I’m alright with it,” he says slowly. Slowly enough for Kelly to look at him.

“But?”

It’s hanging there, and James hesitates. Something unusual for him.

“Well,” he begins “um…maybe we could help them?”

“Help how?”

“Uh…”

Aw hell. They haven’t even talked about this between themselves, though he’s thought about it. He’d been planning to ask Kelly soon, anyway, but he supposes now is as good a time as any, all things considering.

“Well, I was going to ask you whether you wanted to get a place together,” he tells her. “But—

It gets stifled by the kiss she places on his lips. And the smile he gets is the best reward.

“James Calvin Hollinsford,” she says, rubbing her nose on his, “Have I told you how much I love you?”

He grins, feeling proud of himself and squeezes her.

“Not in the last few hours,” he says. “But…you know…I don’t mind if you show me how awesome I am.”

They laugh together.

.

.

“Did you two…talk?” Liz asks, the next morning as they all sit between the kitchen and living room. She’s anxious to know. They don’t have a lot of time. Tuition and fees are due the first day of class, and that’s in just a few more days and…

“Yes. And yes,” Kelly tells her. But she holds up a hand before Liz can get super-excited.

“I have one condition?”

“What? What is it?”

“If Travis moves in,” her eyes go to him and he’s looking equally as nervous and anxious.

“James does too.”

At that, there are grins and Liz hugs her tightly.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“You’re my bestie,” Kelly whispers back. “We’re here for you guys.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

He’s shifting from foot-to-foot, nervous and feeling like he’s about to sign his life away. He had called Thomas a few days ago, and told him of the decision, and asked the agent if he could sign on.

Now, he wonders, as he tries to understand the legalese in front of him, if he’s doing the right thing. No, he KNOWS he’s doing the right thing, but there’s just something that doesn’t feel quite right…

“Hey James,” he calls down the hall. His friend pops his head out of Kelly’s room.

They’ve been here now, officially, for just two days already and it’s still odd to know he actually lives here. With his pregnant girlfriend, his best friend and his best friend’s girlfriend who’s best friends with his girlfriend.

A tongue-twister and a mind-screw at the same time.

James walks up as Travis frowns at the paperwork.

“Do you have an agent, yet?” He asks.  James nods. “Yeah. A friend of the family gave me a referral to an agency.”

“Does this look right to you?” Travis hands him the paperwork and James squints.

“Honestly, I couldn’t tell you man. I…didn’t exactly read mine,” he says slightly sheepishly.

“You signed something you didn’t read?”

James shrugs, defensively. “I mean, it’s a personal reference, and I think the fee is like 3-10 percent or something like that.”

At that, Travis frowns again, reading the contract for the third time.

.

.

It’s late when Liz finally gets home. She’s had to re-arrange her schedule with classes Tuesday and Thursday and working at the paper Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. At $10/ hour, she needs all the work time she can get, because her father has made it abundantly clear she and Travis are on their own. She hasn’t spoken to him since telling him she’s pregnant, two weeks ago now, and while she knew her dad wouldn’t be happy, the things he’d said…hurt.

In many ways, Liz and Carl are just alike.

Not even Rose has been able to negotiate a peace treaty.

“Liz, you know we’d never allow you or the baby to suffer,” her mom had said. And, she had said, yes, she did know that. But it doesn’t mean she’s going to or is ready to ask for anything. In many ways, it feels like freshman year all over again, when Carl had refused to help pay her tuition, leading to her decision to become an independent and qualify for federal grants and other forms of financial aid herself. Liz has done it before without his help, and she’s bound and determined not to ask Carl for anything.

It was true, what she’d told Travis—that her parents have money. She doesn’t. The car was her 21st birthday present, but other than that, this house, her food, gas, clothes—all paid for through her job and her refund checks, courtesy of her scholarships and financial aid.

This new chapter still feels…strange, to her. Kelly and James are the only two people, outside of her family, who know about her pregnancy and Liz is…self-conscious about it, not wanting anyone to know. She’s still new into it, and she’s hoping that she’ll be able to keep it hidden as long as possible. Not because she’s ashamed…but because she already knows that there’s an entire peanut gallery at school who would like nothing more than to try and tear she and Travis down. And she’s got no intention of giving them any sort of ammunition.

The scars of the fall are still fresh—the jumping. The taunting. The fire.

And now that the story of Travis is out, it’s already hard enough as it is. And she’s not her boyfriend. There are pity glances, and some open stares. All the things Travis said would happen, are happening. But it’s mostly quiet enough to be somewhat ignored.

The living room TV is on, Kelly and James watching a movie on the couch.

“Hey, Liz,” they say in unison.

“Hey, where’s Travis?”

James points to the back toward her room and she goes, seeing him sitting at the desk, reading something. Gently, she slides her arms around his shoulders, kissing the back of his neck.

“Hey Lovie,” he says, absently kissing the back of one of her hands.

“Can you take a look at this?”

She settles on the bed and takes off her shoes.

“Sure.”

He hands her the document and she frowns.

Liz isn’t a lawyer but, “does that say 40 percent of endorsements?” she asks. “That seems…high.”

Travis nods. “Yeah, but I don’t know if it’s normal or not. I mean…Thomas has been calling, and the firm is legit and so is he…”

“I don’t know...,” she says, reading through it some more. There’s a lot of language in here, royalties, endorsement, percentage of standard contract and training reimbursement…

“Do you know anyone who can help?” He asks, and at that, her stomach falls, but she nods.

“Yeah…”

“What? What is it?” He hears the hesitation in her voice.

“Daddy,” Liz says drily.

“Your dad? How can he help?”

“He’s an entertainment lawyer,” she tells him. “And if he can’t help, he’ll know someone who can.”

.

.

Carl is sitting in his downtown Atlanta office, overlooking the city when his phone rings.

He sees it, and picks it up immediately, feeling…a bit guilty, really. It’s Liz.

As of now, he’s still sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms. Rose had kicked him out of their bed shortly after that fateful phone call a few weeks ago, and stubbornness and pride had kept him from apologizing—maybe, he was wrong about a few of the thinks he’d said to his daughter. Alright…maybe…more than a few things.

The initial anger has run its course and he’s had a few weeks now to cool down, sort through his own feelings on the issue and he knows…it’s really more of a shock than anything—that his daughter, and only child isn’t quite a child anymore. Liz has always been his little chicken, and he’d raised a proud, independent creature that for some reason, he thought was immune to…boys.

There was some nervousness at Montgomery, but…he’d never really liked that one anyway and was relieved that Liz had dumped the guy. Something about him just didn’t sit well in Carl’s spirit. Montgomery felt…fake. Disingenuous. It’s his job to spot fakes and being in the industry he’s in, he’s gotten very good at it.

Maybe that’s why he’d immediately liked Travis when he met him.

And that’s also why he felt some type of way to learn his daughter was knocked up. Carl doesn’t like being deceived. Though, he wasn’t really.

He sighs.

“Carl Dubek speaking.”

Formal.

“Hello, father,” Liz. Her own voice, equally as formal. A corner of his lip curls up. _That’s my girl_ , he thinks.

 _Your doppelganger_ , Rose has said, noting how similar they are in personality. It’s true, though, he knows. Rose may have given birth to Liz and lord knows she looks like her mama, but…still a daddy’s girl through and through.”

“Yes, Elizabeth?”

“How much do you charge for a consultation?”

At that, he can’t help himself. He starts laughing, and laughs until he realizes there’s silence at the end.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.” It’s hard now. He stops laughing.

“What do you need an eye on? A contract?”

“Yes. Travis is declaring for the draft. He’s received a contract from an agent, but there’s some language in here that neither of us understand and we want to be sure we’re reading it properly. Would you be able to consult us, or do you have a recommendation for someone who could, and how much would the fee be?”

“Elizabeth,” this time, Carl is firm, knowing how absolutely serious his daughter is.

“Stop it. Send me the contact, and let me have a look.”

.

.

Travis is leaving his last class of the day when his phone rings. He answers, not recognizing the number. Atlanta.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Travis.”

He swallows. It’s Carl. Liz’s dad.

“Hi Mr. Dubek.”

“Just Carl,” her dad tells him. “Got a minute?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says sitting down on a bench. Students and some faculty go back and forth, ignoring him for the moment.

“So, I’m reading this contract,” Carl says, “and frankly, its bullshit.”

“Shit.” Travis feels his heart sink, but he catches himself. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Glad you two had the good sense to get a second opinion. So let me ask you a question, Travis.”

“Yes?”

“How serious are you about this draft thing?”

“I need to take care of Liz,” he says, “and the baby. That other guy said he thought maybe…”

God…why does this keep happening to him? Two steps forward, five backward. He thinks he’s getting ahead only for something to drag him back down.

“Well, he’s right about that,” Carl says. “But he’s wrong about the figures he’s talking. First off, that 60-40 split is illegal. The most he can charge you on an NFL contract is three percent. Standard fee for endorsements is around 10-20 percent. And as far as that training fee,” Carl laughs, but its not one of humor this time. “Basically, he’s trying to tap whatever signing bonus you might get. It’s like how they do in the music industry—charge the artist for making the album and take it back from the royalties.”

“So what do I do?” Travis asks.

“Let me represent you, son,” Carl says. “You’re family.”

 “Could you?”

 “I’ve been doing this for decades,” he says. “Let me make a few calls. See where you’re likely to land. We can talk strategy. Are you training?”

He shakes his head, then realizing Carl can’t see him, “no—not yet. I mean…I’m working out…”

“Work harder,” Carl tells him. “You need to get bigger. Add another 15-20 lbs. And you’ll need to train harder, too. Do you have a personal instructor?”

“No.”

“I’ll find you one. Hold tight. I’ll be down this weekend and we can go over it all, in-person. And that’s another thing. That other agent should have had the decency to visit you in person if he wanted your business.”

He waits for Liz to come home and when she does, she sees Travis sitting in the kitchen, looking dazed.

“What’s wrong?”

He gets up and hugs her, giving her a kiss.

“Nothing is wrong,” he says. “You dad…he’s going to represent me.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I talked to him. He’s going to represent me, Liz.”

Despite herself, she smiles and hugs him, feeling warm.

And later, she sends her dad a text.

“Thank you.”

He texts back. “Love you, chicken. Guard my chickadee, see you in a few days.”

It makes her smile as she rubs her belly.

January 14th.  Four more days left before Travis can declare.


	24. Chapter 24

“Well, look at you,” Rose says to Carl as they enter the city, making their way through the traffic on the way to Liz’s house. “What sparked the change of heart?”

“I got tired of sleeping in the guest room,” he grumbles, hands on the wheel. But she grins, knowing how difficult it is for her husband to admit when he’s just wrong.

“Uh huh. And Liz calling for help was just what you were hoping for,” Rose says, laughing. “Feels good to know you’re not just being cast out for some newer, younger model?”

She knows why her husband has been so salty. It’s not about the fact Liz is pregnant, it’s just that Carl is only now realizing he’s not the only man in his daughter’s heart. She still remembers how happy he was when Liz was born—how he’d immediately scooped the tiny, squealing baby into his arms and only reluctantly gave her back to Rose when he realized his daughter wasn’t wanting him at the moment. And they’d been so deeply attached to each other—almost like Carl had given birth to Liz himself.

Rose chuckles. Even when he was mad at Liz he wasn’t really mad—hence the car he’d bought her for her 21st birthday. As if the one she had before that wasn’t enough. But hey, she knows Carl’s heart is in the right place. And she’s glad he’s starting to come around.

A few more minutes and they pull up to the driveway, surprised to see another car there.

Liz comes out the front door to greet them, and the trio exchange hugs before she guides them inside where Kelly, James and Travis are waiting, and makes introductions.

Kelly gives Rose and Carl both hugs.

“Hi Mama Rose,” she says, “Uncle Carl.” They hug her back as James steps forward. Kelly introduces them to her boyfriend. Rose pulls Janes in a hug and he shakes Carl’s hand.

“And Travis,” Carl says formally, extending a hand. He takes it and they shake—the olive branch having been extended.

“So, tell us,” what’s going on,” Rose says, slipping into the couch.

“Well…since Travis and Liz are having a baby,” Kelly says, glancing at her father and seeing him close his eyes and exhale a bit, “we wanted to help, so we agreed to all move in for the time being, and split everything four ways. That way, they can save money, and hopefully, it’ll be a bit easier to manage.”

Liz nods.

“Okay,” Carl says slowly, trying to decide how he feels about it. “Aren’t you guys a bit…cramped?”

Rose elbows him in the side.

“What?” They get quiet and he realizes he may have said something wrong.

“We’re doing fine,” Kelly says to break up the tension. “So, me and James are going to the store, anyone want anything?”

“Bring back some beers,” Carl says, handing her some money. “Oh, can you get apple turnovers and vanilla ice cream?” Rose asks. “We can have those later.”

“Sure. Come on, James,” Kelly says, tugging at him. She doesn’t need to shop, but she also knows Travis and Liz need a bit of alone time with the parental units.

Once gone, Rose motions to them to sit in the loveseat next to the sofa and they come.

“So, how far have you two gotten with planning?”

“Not too far,” Liz admits. “I mean,” she laces her fingers through Travis’s and looks to him, “we know what we’re doing works, for now.”

“What about the baby?” Rose is frowning. “Liz do you have insurance?”

“No. I can’t really afford it.”

“Well, that’s important—especially now, don’t you think?” She prods.

“Yes, I know. But the school’s plan doesn’t cover pregnancy or pre-natal and I don’t make enough money to qualify for any subsidies under Obamacare, and I make too much money for Florida’s Medicaid program so…”

“So you’ll have to do what your dad and I did,” Rose tells her.

“What’s that?”

“The public health system.”

“But mom, that’s for…” She stops herself, immediately knowing how it’s about to come out. Next to her, Travis looks down at the floor, tensing.

“For?” Rose raises an eyebrow. “What do you care about more? How it looks or having a healthy baby?”

“A healthy baby.”

“Then you’ll do what you have to do, right?” She gently chastises.

Quietly, Liz nods, embarrassed. It’s not Liz’s fault, Rose knows, the slip wasn’t conscious. They’ve kept their daughter accustomed to a certain kind of life, and while she’s independent, there are moments when that ingrained arrogance peeps through. Like now. It takes a mother to keep it in check.

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, resources. How much do you have in savings?” Rose asks.

“About $5,000.”

“And Travis, you?” Rose asks. “Um, about $3,000,” he tells her. Liz looks surprised.

“Really? How?”

He casts a look at her out of the side of his eyes. “I don’t spend a lot,” he says, tightly.

Rose and Carl glance at each other, staying out of the fray, for now. Liz looks down as Travis withdraws his hand from hers. Rose interjects again, “Well, that’s good. At least you guys have a cushion. And income?”

“At the end of the month I get my last check from the state,” he says. “It’s 1,500. But I also get my net check and that’ll be around $2500 from the money left over from my scholarships once my tuition is paid.”

“Well, if you’re going into the draft Travis, you won’t have time to hold down a job,” Carl says.

“I’m going to try and stay around 30-32 hours a week at the paper,” Liz says. “So, that’s another $1,200, or so a month.”

Her mom nods, jotting down all the figures and exhaling, feeling much more relieved. With four people splitting rent and utilities, it’s a lot better than she’d initially figured and she’s pleased to see they’ve both saved up money—actually, she’s more so surprised at Travis, and that especially sets her at ease.

“Good,” she tells them. “I think you two will be fine for now, but when the baby comes, that’s when you’re going to need all the income you can get.”

And Rose draws up a list:

Crib with mattress- $160-$750   
Crib bedding set- $35-$270   
Crib blankets (4-6)- $8-$40 each   
Fitted crib sheets (2)- $8-$20 each   
Water-proof mattress cover- $10-$20   
Bassinet or cradle- $35-$260   
Changing table- $70-$600   
Changing pad & cover- $25-$50   
Dresser- $90-$650   
Rocker or glider- $90-$500   
Car seat- $35-$280   
Stroller or travel system- $30-$300   
Playpen or porta-crib- $60-$180   
Swing- $45-$130   
Play center or walker- $50-$125   
Mobile- $25-$70   
Baby carrier or sling- $20-$140   
Monitor- $20-$230   
Baby gate- $35-$250   
Bouncer seat- $30-$90   
Toy box- $25-$90   
Gym or play mat- $25-$90   
Doorway jumper- $25-$60   
High chair- $45-$240   
Diaper bag- $10-$60   
Diaper pail- $20-$45 Refills- $15-$20 (3 pack)   
Thermometer- $10-$90   
First aid supplies (kit)- $20-$30   
Humidifier or vaporizer- $15-$130   
Bottles 8 oz & 4 oz (8-10)- $10-$20 (3 pack) or $20-$40 (starter set)   
Bottle warmer- $18-$35   
Sterilizer- $30-$70   
Breast pump & accessories- $45-$350   
Breastfeeding pillow- $20-$35   
Bath tub or seat- $15-$35   
Hooded towels (4)- $6-$30 each   
Wipes (a lot)- $4-$5 (pack)   
Clothes for first year- $500-$1,200

 

“And that’s not including maternity clothes for Liz,” Rose says. “Nor does it include diapers, formula if and or when the baby needs it, doctor’s visits….” She looks at both of them sternly. “I don’t want you two thinking it’s going to be easy,” she says, seeing twin terrified expressions as Liz and Travis look at each other in fear.

“But we’re your parents,” and looking at Travis, “and you’re family now too, Travis. We’re going to help as much as we can. But it’s up to you two to do the heavy lifting.”

.

.

Later, in bed, Liz looks up how much it costs to have a baby, and gasps, covering her mouth as the figures come up. Travis rolls over. They’ve been mostly silent since Rose’s lecture and even through dinner. He’s not forgotten Liz’s reaction to public health and it had made him feel…some type of way. So in order to keep the peace, he’s elected to just stay quiet. As a result, she’s on one side of the bed, he’s on the other, neither touching. But at the gasp, it makes him turn.

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t know it costs so much,” she says, showing him the screen. Prices for a vaginal delivery and a C-section. Between $7,000 and $10,000 alone. He peers at it. “Is that…with insurance?”

She nods and he grimaces.

They don’t have that. Nowhere near that amount of money, and all the other things they have to buy for the baby…coupled with rent, and utilities, gas for the car, food…Liz starts to feel anxious. Nervous about what they’re doing.

“Travis?” Big, soft brown eyes stare into his.

“Maybe…,” she’s scared. Afraid to say it, but knowing it needs to be spoken. At least acknowledged.

“I mean…it’s not too late for us to change our minds…”

Liz watches his face change, and immediately regrets saying anything. Travis sits up and throws off the blankets, standing, absolutely furious. She sits up too, drawing her legs up to her chest protectively.

“What?!” He half-whispers, rasps, aware her parents are in the room next to them, and James and Kelly, down the hall. But he’s been upset for hours now and this…is absolutely the final straw.

“What? You don’t want to do this now? Because it’s hard? What’s the problem, Liz? Is it just now dawning on you that you have to give up your pretty, perfect life and come down a few notches with the rest? You don’t like the idea of being _poor_? The last word is sharp, spoken in pure anger and he is, and he’s not about to apologize because what she’s suggesting is just…

“I’m sorry! I’m just—“

“Scared, right?” He asks bitterly. “Welcome to how I feel. I deal with it every single day. You know what,” he glances at her seeing the anguish in her face, but failing at the moment to empathize at all, “do whatever you want. I’ll find a place. I’m not about to force you into doing something you don’t want. And clearly,” he motions between them, “you don’t want this.”

Travis takes a pillow and leaves the room, leaving Liz alone, in tears.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Their ‘quiet’ argument apparently wasn’t ‘quiet’ enough.

“Go talk to him, Carl,” Rose says hearing the door to the other room open and close, and the thud of footsteps carry down the hall.

“No. He needs a moment, and Elizabeth does too,” he says, shaking his head.

They didn’t hear all of it, but they’d certainly heard enough and both knew, from earlier, watching Travis’ reactions to some of Liz’s comments, it was coming eventually. But as parents—there’s a time to intercede and a time to stay out and both know, now’s a time to stay out of it.

Even still, it’s hard to get to sleep because they can her their daughter trying to muffle her sobs in the other room.

.

.

Liz is the first in the house to wake up, only because she couldn’t sleep. She feels terrible, and as soon as she can, walks out the room into the living room only to see that Travis isn’t there.

She checks the backyard: no Travis.

_Where is he?_

She sits on the couch, holding his pillow in her arms, trying not to start crying again.

Last night was terrible. And it’s her fault. She was just trying to be rational, to be…responsible, to—no. It’s a lie. She’s terrified. Terrified because her world is changing, terrified because the safety net she’s known all her life is slipping and she’s never had to deal with anything like this—the uncertainty and she’s realizing for the first time that she’s not equipped for it and that frightens her more than anything else.

She hadn’t meant to sound... like one of those girls. The women at the other school who think they’re superior to others. She hadn’t meant to sound like a spoiled rich girl, but she did and in doing so—ended up offending her boyfriend. And not just that…had she really said maybe they shouldn’t? After they both agreed that day, in the clinic office…that they wanted this baby?

What the hell had made her say those things? Was it really her? Is that how she really is? How so many people see her? Spoiled? Selfish? High and mighty, too good for anyone? God…what she sounded like yesterday…Montgomery would be so proud, she thinks bitterly.

After a while, the front door creaks open and she looks up. Travis.

He’s there, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, the same that he was wearing last night and she gets up quickly, still in her night gown and goes to him.

“Please, don’t leave,” she says, humbling herself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said last night. I’m just…”

“Afraid,” he deadpans, looking down at her.

“I meant what I said last night, Elizabeth. I know where I stand. What I can and can’t do. We don’t have to do this if you…”

But she stops him, standing on her tip-toes to kiss him firmly, taking his hand and putting it on her belly.

“No. I want to do this,” she tells him.

“We made this baby on purpose, Travis,” and then lower, in case others are awake.

 “We didn’t have an accident,” she tells him, hesitantly. “I wanted…” at that one though, she looks away and he catches her, guiding her face gently back to his.

“I did too,” he says quietly. “I do, too.” Something they’ve danced around, but never really acknowledged before now. That what they were doing was dangerous, and fanciful, but at the same time…wanted. They were never really just “dating”. From almost the moment he met Liz it was love. And from the moment she met him, it felt like fate.

Carl is the next one awake, and as he sticks his head out the door, he quickly ducks back in. Rose rolls over on the air mattress and opens one eye, seeing him grinning.

“What are you so happy about?”

“They’re fine,” he says. 

.

.

Liz’s parents spend the weekend. Rose takes care of Liz, preparing some frozen meals the four residents can nibble on later down the line and Carl takes care of Travis. And by the time he leaves, Travis has a new weekly schedule, including personal training.

“Now, the money for this is in your contract,” Carl warns. “But you can pay it back, IF you can pay it back. That language is here,” he points to it. “Remember, I need you to put on between 15-25 lbs. work on your precision and your timing. And follow what the trainer says.”

“So, do you think it will work?” Travis is still nervous—his schedule is intense—classes Monday-through Thursday, Training Tuesday through Saturday, rest on Sunday and Monday.

Carl nods. “Yes, I think it will work, but it won’t if YOU keep doubting yourself. Your paperwork is done. You’ve officially declared for the draft. And as the reps call, I’ll run everything by you. I won’t lie, Travis—this isn’t going to be a round one-through-three, thing. It won’t even be round four or five. But you will get on a team, eventually. That I’m fairly sure of. The question is going to be where? And we’ll find that out when the teams start calling. So, all you need to do for now is go to class and train. And training is a full-time job by itself. Now, next step: let’s see if there’s an invite to the combine with your name on it. Those should be coming out in the next few weeks.”


	26. Chapter 26

 

By the end of the first week, Liz and Travis have barely seen each other, let alone Kelly and James. And Kelly has barely seen any of them, even though everyone lives under the same roof.

Travis and James are the first awake for their training sessions. Training starts at 6 a.m. and they’re gone by 5:30. Liz is up next: around 7 to make her 8 a.m. courses, and by the time Kelly comes around, the townhouse is silent and empty.

Nighttime is no better.

Kelly finds herself to be the first in the house, and then, on some nights, Liz shuffles in around six. Usually 7. The guys don’t get in until closer to nine, but by then, they just scarf down whatever Liz or Kelly made, grab showers, and collapse into bed.

Week two and more of the same.

Everyone’s schedule is opposite.

By the end of the first month, Kelly has reached a tipping point. “We can’t go on like this,” she moans, early on a Sunday when she finally manages to catch Liz in a “spare” hour. James and Travis are off, studying on campus and the two women are at home doing the same. Or trying to. Liz is falling asleep on the couch, a book in her lap. But when the cushions next to her shift as Kelly plunks down, she sits up.

“What?”

“This.” Kelly motions with her hand. “I feel like I have three roommates, one who sleeps in my bed.”

“Well, you DO have three roommates, and one DOES sleep in your bed,” Liz says sarcastically.

Kelly rolls her eyes. “YOU know damn well what I’m saying. I WANT my boyfriend back. And I hate I’m saying this, but I kind of miss you too. I’m feeling...”

“Lonely?” Liz adds.

“Sorry Kelz. But you know I have to work…”

“You don’t HAVE to…you want too,” Kelly tells her. “And personally, all three of you are running yourselves ragged. You come home, cook go to sleep, wake up—go to class, work. Repeat. Travis and James get up, go to practice, go to class, go to practice, and come home. Eat. Shower. Sleep. I’m pretty much here by myself. I mean, it was cool the first few days, now though…”

“Not so much?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, what do you want them to do? Withdraw from the draft?”

“NO!” Kelly sits up. “Never mind. You’re not getting what I’m trying to say. Or maybe I’m not saying it right.” She gets up and walks off, leaving Liz alone.

Liz weighs whether to call Kelly back, but decides against it. But she does understand. She’s turned everyone’s life upside down and has asked Kelly to go along with it, and for the most part, her best friend has been supportive. But Kelly’s likely feeling neglected when everyone is off doing their own thing, when it used to be they all did things together.

Perhaps none of them really thought this thing through. Just sort of threw together a rough draft of a plan and implemented it. Now that they actually have to do it…Liz gets it. Kelly is the last one up and first one home, cooking for friends that aren’t really even there, and it’s unfair, she realizes. Kelly isn’t their maid.

The book on her lap is closed, and Liz gets off the couch, grabs her keys and purse and locks the door to the house as she leaves.

They’ve got to do better. Rather, she’s got to do better, because the boys—well, there’s nothing that can really be done about James and Travis’ schedules. It’s a sacrifice they’ve all agreed on. But there’s something she can do to help Kelly out.

The drive to the grocery store is short, and Liz grabs the ingredients she knows by heart—staples. Tuna in cans, ground chicken, beef, turkey, a variety of pastas, cheeses, milk, eggs, spinach and other leafy greens. Sausage, potatoes, kale, cream of chicken, mushroom, and celery soups—proteins, carbohydrates, lycopins, etc. It all comes to nearly $200 dollars when she gets done, and the bags are heavy—she struggles to haul it all inside, but get it in, she does.

The oven is turned on to 400-degrees. There’s a lot that’s about to go inside, and Liz starts pulling out pots and pans—boiled water, seasonings…cabinets opened.

Kelly comes out of her room, watching as Liz darts around the kitchen, lifting, bending…

“Are you supposed to be doing any of that,” she asks, coming to help her friend out.

“I’m pregnant, not dead,” Liz huffs, struggling to get one particular piece of glassware out that’s trapped under the convoluted placement of a cookie sheet, extended handle saucepan that’s apparently stuck under its own lid. A tug. Nothing. Another. Still nothing…until there’s a crash and Liz stumbles backward—saved from falling by Kelly.

“Okay. Stop. What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to cook! What does it look like?”

But by now, the kitchen is hot, and Liz is flushed and becoming a bit more…excitable.

“Okay, stop. I get it, but for real, I don’t want you hurting yourself, and Travis will be sick if anything happens to baby.” Kelly points at Liz’s belly.

Liz rolls her eyes, but reluctantly steps away to let Kelly help.

 “Thanks,” she says.

“You’re welcome.” Kelly gives her a smile. “You didn’t have to go grocery shopping. I know everyone is busy.”

“Yeah, but still,” Liz tells her. “I can help.”

They end up preparing a few different meals. Lasagna, a tuna casserole, spaghetti, a spinach and kale soup for the night, and a few other dishes. Three are left out for the week, the others put into the freezer. If they can stay organized and plan on cooking Sunday’s Liz thinks, it may make things a bit easier on everyone.

Later that evening, she’s about to step into the shower, when the front door opens, and she hears James and Travis talking. The dull thud of their footsteps on the hardwood floors draw closer and so she waits until Travis comes through the door.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He gives her a kiss on the cheek, and takes off his shoes, putting them in the closet.

It’s the first evening they’ve actually had a few hours to themselves, and Liz bites her lip, debating.

“Are you…hungry?”

A shrug. “Yeah.”

“I can get you something.

“That’s okay. I’ll get it, eventually.” He’s looking at something on his phone and sounding a bit, tense, she thinks.

“Okay, well…I was about to get in the shower…” It’s an offer. But he doesn’t take it.

“Oh. Okay. I’ll climb in when you’re done.”

At that—she wonders if her boyfriend is being deliberately obtuse.

They’ve not been intimate in a while—well, since…she thinks about it—the night before the championship game? That was around the start of December and it’s now about to be February. She’s been busy. Travis has been busy it’s no big…

“Okay.”

She gets her shower, but when she comes back to the room wrapped in a towel, Travis is already asleep in bed. With a sigh, Liz climbs in beside him.

.

.

“Are you still coming with me, tomorrow?”

The text comes in right as he’s preparing for practice.

The buzzing of the phone is what draws his attention and Travis reads it, slightly confused.

“What’s tomorrow?” He texts before putting the phone back down.

“Travis, sometime today, if you please,” his trainer calls from the weight room.


	27. Chapter 27

Two scouting services, personnel from NFL offices—they have a list of names and it’s a yes or a no. A player has to get enough votes to get invited. That’s what Carl said a few days ago when they talked between Travis’s classes. Liz’s father had reassured him after three weeks without a call.

“They have several rounds,” Carol told him. “Having said that, the combine will tell you that 35-45 players who weren’t invited get drafted. So it’s not a done deal if an invite doesn’t happen. Have you been checking your email—the one on file?”

Most college players have email address on hand. The NFL uses the one players list at the time they commit to a school in order to contact them, and  there are strict rules in place about communication between what are still college-athletes and the front offices of professional sports teams.

“Yes. But nothing.”

He’s trying not to be dejected about it. James hasn’t gotten an invite yet either, but his friend seems far more upbeat about his chances and has been trying to reassure him, as well.

“The combine is being evaluated right now,” James had told him as well. “Don’t worry dude. You’re good.”

Travis is trying to believe that.

As it is now, the Spring is becoming even more chaotic than the fall was. He gets to see his girlfriend maybe a few hours a week. But, so far, their schedules are so out-of-sync that he managed it just on Sunday. And when he thinks about Sunday, well…he’s pretty sure he messed that one up. He thinks Liz wanted sex, but he was too distracted by worrying and by the time he realized she wanted sex it was the next morning and he was getting up at 5 a.m. for weight training while Liz was sound asleep.

It was going to be hard, Carl said. Even Rose said. But he really didn’t think it would be quite like this.

“Okay. We’re going to increase the weight another 20. Let’s go for…the first five reps.” His trainer spots him on the bench and Travis grunts as he works at the weights. He’s put on the first five pounds of muscle and is still working at gaining, while increasing his speed, response times, flexibility. Monday, Wednesday and Friday are weight training. Thursday and Thursday including throwing and drills.

Another full course load because he’s trying hard to finish up this Spring.

The phone vibrates in the locker room, but he doesn’t hear it.

.

.

She’s trying not to be upset.

It’s the first “official” visit to the doctor since they found out about the baby, but Liz is presently alone at the Health Department, waiting to be called back.

Travis promised to come with her today, but apparently forgot. _She won’t be mad. She won’t be mad…_

“Dubek?”

A nurse peeps out from an open door, and she gets up and follows the woman back.

A nurse aid takes her height, weight, temperature, it’s all recorded, and she’s led to an exam room and given the gown. Liz changes clothes, and waits.

After a while the doctor comes in, and instructs her to lay back, proceeding to do a breast exam, press on her belly and ask a few questions.

 “So, I see you’re about…three months along?” Dr. Marks says.

“Yes. I think so.”

“Have you had any previous pregnancies?”

Liz shakes her head. “No. This is my…our, first.” She corrects herself.

“Oh! You have a partner?” The doctor asks. She begins to ask more questions—about Travis’ family history, whether he knows if there are any genetic disorders, but none that Liz can answer. Travis isn’t with her, and she starts to feel a bit uncomfortable. The doctor eyes her warily and takes on a gentler tone.

Have you ever been a victim of domestic abuse?” She asks.

At that, Liz’s eyes go wide. “NO!” Oh, goodness, is that what the woman thinks. “No! My boyfriend, he’s really sweet…”

“It’s alright,” the doctor says, and she can’t figure out whether the woman believes her or not. “We just need to make sure that there aren’t any problems that could affect your safety or emotional well-being.”

It feels awkward, and Liz goes quiet, just listening as the doctor explains what sound like a battery of tests she’ll have to take soon.

“It would also be great if you could get your partner’s history. It’ll give us a better idea of things we should look for,” the doctor says. It makes her nervous.

“Wait—is there something wrong? With the baby?” Her hands go to her belly. It’s still small, but getting bigger, her tighter clothes are a testament to that, but she’s not quite showing yet, unless she’s naked and the only person that’s seen her disrobed is the doctor and Travis.

“All looks well so far. We’ll see you in another few weeks to do the preliminary screenings,” the doctor writes on her pad and gives Liz a piece of paper. “Take this to the font and we’ll get you booked. And here,” another sheet with a list of “Do’s, Don’ts” and First Trimester, “What to Expects.”

.

.

Liz is working in the newsroom when her phone rings. It’s Kelly, excited.

“Liz!!! Guess what?”

“What?”

 She switches the phone to another ear.

“What happened?”

“James got a combine invite!”

“Wow, today?”

“Yes! Can you believe it? Did Travis get one too?!”

“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him since…”

Since she came out the shower and he was fast asleep in bed. Three days ago.

“Oh.” Kelly gets quiet. “Well, just see. And I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Hey Liz?”

Her editor pops over to her desk. “Can I get a minute?”

“Sure,” she hangs up from Kelly and follows him to his office.

“Yes?”

“Hey Liz, I know we said you could do about 30-35 hours a week,” he tells her, “but Human Resources has said we can’t. Because you’re still a student and due to FLSA rules and the ACA liability, we’re going to have to keep you capped around 20-25.”

Oh no. She’d been relying on the extra time to supplement their income. This basically means she’s still a part-time worker.

“Is there anything I can do?” Liz asks, still hopeful. But James shakes his head. “Sorry, Liz. You’re still technically an intern and the policies…”

She flushes, but nods, feeling her fingers tingle with the beginnings of anxiety. They’ve got money in savings, Travis still has his net check, but her internship is her main source of income.

Liz finishes up her story and leaves the office heading home, breathing deeply to stop herself from crying.

.

.

“…It will ultimately come down to the tape and character evaluations, interviews and medical review. You can go through the list (bench press, vertical jump) but know there are people at the top of the list who never did anything. And you’ve got those at the bottom who end up becoming standouts.  So you have to weigh everything…”

Carol is talking sports, which means he must be talking to Travis.

 Rose goes to the bedroom, taking off her suit jacket and shoes, and she’s in the middle of changing the rest of her clothes when her husband comes through the door, looking slightly frustrated.

“What’s wrong?”

He sighs.

“I just had to tell Travis there’s not going to be an invitation to the combine for him,” he says.

“WHAT?! WHY? Why would they do that to the boy? Didn’t James get one? They’re on the same team, for Christsakes and from what you said--”

He cuts her off. “I _know_ what I said. But there’s a glut of quarterbacks on the market this year, and only a handful of teams that need them. Plus, James is a linebacker and the injury list for those positions is always long, so they’re always in demand. Not to mention the size of the school. Look, Travis knew it would be a long shot…”

“So what does this mean for him and Liz? Is it over? What will they do?”

Rose is genuinely worried. Both for her daughter and for the boy who is basically her son already. He’s too sweet and too kind and she thinks he’s been through enough dejection already to have this happen.

“Carl, can you try again? If they just SAW his tape…”

Carl looks at his wife. Rose’s soft eyes are pleading, and he weighs it.

“You know these things are done by committee,” he tells her. "They've likely already seen his tapes."

“Yes. But I also know it only takes a few to change their minds,” she insists. “We have to give him a shot. Get him at _least_ that. The rest is up to him, but he’s _good_ Carl. You’ve seen his tapes too. Doesn’t he deserve to at least have the scouts look at him?”

He thinks on it.

“Well…I do know a guy who knows a guy…” Carl says hesitantly, already pondering the ways he can do this, legally. So many rules in place, but he thinks there might be one more avenue to get Travis a fair shake. 

Rose smiles kissing him on the cheek. 

"That's the power-lawyer I know," she says with a grin. He does too. Because a happy wife, means a happy life. 

.

.

Liz is curled up in bed when the door to the bedroom opens and Travis walks in. He looks surprised to see her, and she knows, just by glancing up at him, that something is wrong. She can tell he’s been crying and sits up, ignoring her own state at the moment. 

“Hey.”

“Hey, Liz.”

Travis tries to walk past her, but this time, she doesn’t let him. This cycle they’re in, she’s going to be the one to end it now. And she thinks she already knows what’s wrong.

Liz gets up and goes to her boyfriend, wrapping her arms around his waist in a hug.

Hesitantly, he embraces her too, and lays his head on top of hers.

She hears a sniffle and squeezes him tighter.

“Maybe you were right,” he says, hoarsely, a hand touching her belly. “Maybe this is all wrong.”

“No.”

Liz feels the tears prick at the corner of her eyes, her chest hot.

“NO. It’s right. We’ll be okay.”

Because she refuses to accept the alternative to okay.

Eventually, they settle on the bed, and he tells her that he didn’t get a combine invite. That there’s not likely to be one coming for him.

And she tells him that the money she thought she had coming in, isn’t going to be there, because she can’t work more than 20-25 hours a week. Realistically, 20. He tells her that he’s scared. Afraid he won’t make it, and that all he wants to do is take care of her. He says he’s sorry for missing the first appointment, but that he’ll be there for the others. And he tells her that he loves her, and she kisses him, and tells him she loves him too. And that somehow, they will find a way to make it work.

Travis tucks Liz into the curve of his body as they lay down, inhaling the scent of her hair. What he needs is reassurance. She gives him that, and more.

What she needs is security—to feel safe and protected. And he gives her that, pulling her close, enveloping her body into his.

It’s been a long, rough day.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

“Man, you can’t just quit this! Every year there’s always a bunch of guys drafted that don’t make the combine. It doesn’t mean that much anyway.”

“Yeah, you say that because you’re going. But thanks, James,” Travis cracks a smile as they start their warm-ups.  “I get you’re trying to be a good friend.”

James sighs. “I really wish you would get over this Eeyore thing you do. Every time there’s a setback you automatically go to the worst-case scenario.”

“I mean, wouldn’t you?” Travis gets defensive.

“No. Because if you really want something, you’ll do whatever it takes. I know you man. I know how you operate and I know your M.O. You’re trying to protect yourself in case it all goes South, but what you’re doing is hurting yourself when you really need to be going all-in. I get it looks bleak as hell right now, but Travis, you’re the best one out there. Better than me. It’s a game and you have to fake it and play it until you win it. IF you want to win it.”

He thinks on it.

Keeps thinking on it through the workout.

And he dwells on it that night, with Liz.

“I think you should continue,” she tells him. “If it’s meant to be, it will.”

.

.

They’re together this time, at the health department. Time for Liz’s tests, and Travis is with her.

Her leg is shaking and he puts a hand on her knee to calm her.

“Sorry,” she looks at him. “Just nervous.” Liz gives him a tight smile and a kiss to the cheek.

“It’s okay. I know he’s fine.”

“He?” At that one, Liz laughs. “You’re making a lot of assumptions.”

“What? A guy can hope!” Travis grins.

They’re chuckling quietly in a corner of the semi-full waiting room when the nurse pops her head out. “Dubek?”

They go.

A few people in the waiting room glance up at them. Even the nurse looks surprised to see a guy with a pregnant girl. Likely the boyfriend and father she muses guiding them to the back.

“I’m just going to take some blood, and then we’ll get an ultrasound to see how your baby is doing.”

The blood work goes quickly. In the exam room Liz changes clothes and hops up on the table to wait, Travis still with her. It’s different now, from the last time they were in a doctor’s office together. Then they were bracing for the worst, now though…despite still being a little nervous, Liz squeezes his hand, happy he’s here.

After a while a technician comes and greets them.

The jelly is cold on her tummy as it’s applied and Travis waits, curious to see what, or rather, who, pops up on the monitor.

After a minute of searching, the image comes, and they gasp.

 The first time, there was just a sack and something that looked like a pea. Now, nearing the middle of February, there’s a whole lot more to see. The image on screen is definitely a baby. Tiny still, but there’s a head and legs, feet, little hands. A fat belly.

And it’s inside her.

“Wow,” Travis peers at the screen then at Liz, filled with something that feels very much like wonder.

The tech glances at them and can’t help but grin seeing their twin expressions. She likes young couples. And these two are particularly adorable in their innocence.

“Do you want to try and see if it will let us know, boy or girl?” She asks. They nod, enthralled.

The tech tries a different angle and the device in her hands skirts over Liz’s belly.

Travis points to a spot.

“What’s that?”

They all peer a bit closer, and he starts to get even more excited, until the nurse bursts his bubble.

“It’s the hand. Apparently, this one wants to leave you two guessing.”

A hand.

Liz giggles. “It’s like a little fig leaf,” she says grinning up at her boyfriend and laughing again at the expression on his face. But Travis is determined. “I still say boy.”

“Suit yourself.”

The nurse finishes and helps Liz get the jelly cleaned off.

“Alright, the doctor is going to review the ultrasound and be with you guys in a minute.”

A few more minutes of waiting time, and the doctor Liz had the first time comes in.

“Ah, this must be your partner,” she says, shaking Travis’s hand.

“Welcome. Well, so far, so good you two,” she tells them to a big sigh of relief.

“The baby is developing nicely and we’ll get your bloodwork back in a week or so. If it’s all normal, you’ll get a call, and if it’s not, we’ll call anyway. You two are good to go. Ms. Dubek, continue to watch your salt intake,” she says, “your levels are a tad to the high end of normal.”

They’re feeling good, better than they have the past couple days and waiting to book Liz’s next appointment when the good mood is shattered by the person who comes to take their paperwork.

Quanda.

“How may I…” Her voice fades after she comes around the corner and looks up and sees Travis and Liz standing there. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi.”

Neither woman has spoken since the fight at the game and that was months ago. Quanda eyes Liz hard, then Travis.

She doesn’t say anything, just waits to be handed the paperwork.

Travis gives it to her, and the entire exchange, though it takes less than five minutes, is beyond awkward. Quanda is in scrubs behind the counter. She keys in the appointment date, and the code, and when she gives the card when the appointment scribbled on it to Liz, she’s smirking.

“Congrats.”

Their drive home is silent.

.

.

Her clothes are getting tight.

Too tight to even be ‘form fitting.” Most of her wardrobe is too small.

“You need new clothes,” Kelly says watching Liz try to squeeze into a pair of jeans. She’s hoping around her bedroom and pulling and when that doesn’t work, lays back on the bed. But try as she might, while they do get over her hips, there’s a three-inch gap that prevents her from being able to get them buttoned.

“I KNOW,” Liz huffs, finally giving up on the jeans and going for a pair of yoga pants. Those go on a lot easier. But still, her pride is hurt.

“I mean, you’re pregnant. It’s good you made it this long. You still don’t look it though,” Kelly tells her in a terrible attempt at being reassuring.

“I’m not hiding,” Liz says defensively, pulling on a large t-shirt.

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Shut up. Are you coming with me to the mall or not?”

They’re walking out of the store, several bags in hand when they run into a few of Kelly’s associates, sans Quanda. But it’s clear they already know. And the bags in Liz’s hands are a dead giveaway if there ever was one.

“Oh, so it IS true,” Angie, one of Quanda’s lackeys says once Kelly and Liz pass. But she’s not quiet, and they can hear her talking. Loudly.

“Now that’s skank,” another chimes in. “First she’s screwing Montgomery. Then Travis Fimmel. Seems she’ll just fuck her way to the top.”

“Please, to the bottom. Travis isn’t going anywhere. She screwed herself.”

They’re all laughing.

“Don’t listen to it,” Kelly warns as Liz does her level best to keep walking, though she’s so upset that by the time they get to the car, she’s trembling. The doctor’s visit was just a week ago. And in that time, she’s been sure to keep her head down, mind her business and go to class, work and back. Now, though, she can’t hide.

 “Is that what’s going around? That I’m sleeping with Travis because people think he’ll get drafted? That I got pregnant to trap him?”

“Um…” Kelly looks away. She’s heard the rumors for a while now, but only in the past few days have they taken on a new thread. Quanda’s mouth has been running all over campus and though Kelly knew news of the pregnancy would leak eventually, she feels bad for Liz. There’s only so much she can do to counter the talk. People are going to say and think what they want.

“You can say yes. It’s fine,” Liz deadpans once they get inside the car.  

“Yes. That’s pretty much what it is.”

Liz shakes her head and rubs her belly. Inside, her baby flutters against her fingers and she smiles a bit sadly wishing for the semester to be over.

At least she has Travis. He’s not left. And they’re just trying to make it.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

Travis doesn’t answer his phone. So Carl calls Liz.

“Hey daddy.”

“Hi chicken. How’s the chickadee?”

She laughs. “Daddy, what if it’s a boy?”

“It’s still a chickadee. There are boy chickadees.”

Another smile. He’s glad he can still make his daughter laugh.

“How’s it going?”

“The doctor says so far, so good. We had the ultrasound a few days ago.”

“Well?” He demands. “And you didn’t say anything? Rose!” Carl calls before Liz can say anything else.

“What?” Liz hears her mother’s faint yell back.

“They had the ultrasound and didn’t tell us!”

There’s thumping in the background and Liz rolls her eyes as Rose’s voice comes through on the phone, clear as day.

“Well? Are we having a granddaughter or a grandson?”

“We don’t know.”

“HOW don’t you know? Carl demands. I think it would be obvious. If it points up…” Now her daddy sounds like her grandpa and Liz stifles a laugh.

“It was hiding from us. Put a hand over its little parts so all we got to see were fingers.”

“Ohhh…a surprise,” Rose says, her grin obvious through the phone. “That baby is a sly one.”

She feels a ping of pressure against her stomach. The baby.

“I think it heard you. It just kicked me.”

Just then the front door opens and Travis comes through. He hugs her from behind and puts a kiss on her neck, his hands touching her belly. It’s becoming rounder, and getting bigger too. He caresses it, enjoying the feel of his girlfriend’s slightly round and firm tummy.

“Hey, Lovie,” he kisses her cheek and she leans into it, the whiskers on his beard scratchy against her cheek.

“Oh, good Travis is there? I need to talk to him anyway. Actually, since the two of you are there, can you put me on speakerphone?” Carl asks.

“Who’s that?” Travis asks, hearing a voice.

“It’s daddy.”

“Hi Carl.”

“Hold on,” Liz says tapping her phone. “Okay. Both of us are here, now.”

“Good. Travis, have you checked your email today?” Carl asks.

“No. I just got in. Why?”

“Go check,” her dad says. “Now.”

“Okay.”

And he does.

Liz sees Travis eyebrows furrow as he reads, then they get big.

“What? What is it?”

“Fuck.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head and looks at Liz, giving her the phone. She scans it quickly and then lets out a shriek. A high, feminine, and excited shriek that makes Carl have to pull the phone back a bit. But Rose is grinning at her husband and giving him “the look” and sure enough.

“Carl, I don’t know what to say…” Travis sounds happy, and he shakes his head.

“All I did was what your agent is supposed to do,” he tells his (maybe) future son-in-law.

“You’re talent is yours alone, Travis. But get your stuff together, the combine is next week.”

Liz squeezes Travis’s neck and he picks her up and off the floor in a hug.

When Kelly and James come home, Travis gives them the news and gets hugs too.

“You’ve got this, man,” James says. “You got this.”

.

.

Carl and James’s agent meet them at the airport when their plane lands and take them to the hotel where all the players are staying.

“See you on the field, man,” James says before going off with his agent.

Carl takes Travis to his room.

“Did you bring a suit?” He asks.

“Well, I brought my dress clothes,” Travis tells him.

“Dress clothes? What did you bring, Travis?” Carl asks, suspiciously.

 So Travis shows him. It’s…sort of a suit—the shirt is fine, but the pants are faded. “Are those dark gray?” He asks.

“No. Black,” Travis says, and Carl frowns.

“Shoes?”

Travis pulls them out, well worn, a sort of leather upper…they look more like a loafer than a dress shoe and when Carl flips them over, he tries not to cringe at the smooth bottoms—the traction long gone.

“Come with me,” Liz’s father instructs, mentally thanking himself for having the foresight to get Travis to Indiana a day early.

“Where are we going?”

“To buy you a suit. Your interviews are on and off the field,” Carl says. “You have to look the part, Travis.”

Travis quiets, and does what he’s told. Carl has been doing this far longer than he has, and Travis is  grateful for the assist. Yet he still can’t shake the feeling of being a charity case, and he hopes for the day he can pay Liz’s dad back.

They go to Brooks Brothers.

“Hi, can I help you?” A well-dressed sales clerk steps from behind the counter, looking between Carl and Travis trying to figure out which one or both are the client. Carl points, seeing the question. He’s accustomed to it. Most of his clients tend to dress like the homeless. But they’re all millionaires now. Travis is the only one that actually was at one point, and can’t afford to dress the way Carl is now. But as he looks at his future son-in-law, in a pair of beat-to-death sandals, cotton sweatpants, t-shirt and worn hoodie with a faded baseball cap with his hair sticking out all over the place, he feels fond of the kid. Admires Travis’s tenacity and determination. And, Carl admits slightly begrudgingly, he does think Liz chose well.

Besides, he really couldn’t stand that smarmy-ass Montgomery cat. Carl will take Travis over that asshole any day.  

Next will come a trip to the barbershop, but for now, the clothes are the most important.

“Him,” Carl says pointing at Travis.

“Ah.” The sales man circles the younger one, pulling out the tape measure from around his neck.

“Let’s get your sizes.”

It feels awkward. Travis hasn’t ever been to a formal dress store, and he stands uncomfortably, holding out his arms, spreading his legs, as the man works, taking measurements and jotting them down. He feels a bit like a project, but again—it’s a necessary thing, he knows. He does need something to wear, not like he can walk into interviews naked.

“Okay. So, what’s your style?” The salesman asks. “Preferences?”

“Um…” He’s gotta think on it. It doesn’t take very long. “I don’t really have any.”

Because he’s an athlete, most of what he usually wears are sweatpants, shorts, tennis shoes, t-shirts. Everyday stuff. Then there’s the uniform on the weekends, but hell, most of what he’s got is just…stuff. Nothing special, aside from the clothes he wears to games to look somewhat presentable.

Both Carl and the salesmen are now frowning at him, and so Travis takes a stab in the dark.

“I don’t like tight pants.”

“Good, what else do you or don’t you like?”

“Uh…three-piece suits look nice,” he ventures.

At that, the salesman lights up.

“I’ve got you,” he says, motioning for them to follow.

Three exhausting hours later, Travis and Carl walk out the store with bags.

“I feel like a girl,” Travis says, eyeing the hall skeptically. “Yeah, well, you need it. It’s mandatory,” Carl tells him as they drive away heading for a barbershop.  “I’ll pick up the suit first thing in the morning while you’re running drills. But trust me, the look is important. They want to see that you can be professional on and off the field. This is a JOB Travis. Think of it as that. Your 9-to-5, except instead of reporting to an office every day, you report to a stadium.”

He nods in understanding.

When they walk into the shop one of the barbers looks up and whistles low.

“Wow, dude. That’s…some hair,” he says, motioning to his chair. “What do you want?”

“Can you just clean me up?” Travis asks as the black bib is wrapped around his neck.

“And the beard?”

At that, there’s a bit of a pang. He’s been letting it grow out the past few months, and kind of likes it. It’s gotten thick and full, and it’s hard enough growing a beard as it is…a point of personal pride for him, but…

“Do I have to cut it off?”

“Nah, man. You can keep it.”

Relief. At that. “Okay, um…can you trim it? Get it even?”

Carl nods in approval and takes a chair, leafing through emails and doing some office work while Travis is being worked on.

Later that night, Travis is in his hotel room, with the clothes laid out for him, debating on what to wear when he starts to feel anxious again. He doesn’t want to bother Liz’s dad, but…

His cell phone rings and he pulls it out of his pocket and answers.

“Hello?”

“Hey Mufa.”

Liz. Her voice washes over him like a soothing balm and he sits down on a nearby chair, cradling the phone against his neck and smiling.

“I like it when you call me that.”

She laughs, I know. How was your flight? How was your day?”

So he tells her.

“Your dad is like a fairy god-father or something.” It earns him a little chuckle.

“Let me guess. Daddy took you shopping,” Liz says. “Mom says he’s got a great eye for fashion, but PLEASE don’t ever tell him that. It’s not ‘manly’ or something.”

It’s Travis’ turn to laugh. “I needed it,” he finally admits. “I don’t think I would have done it on my own. So, how was your day, today?”

It’s 6 o’clock and he knows Liz is probably either leaving or just left the newspaper.

“Busy,” she tells him. “But more like nothing major, just a bunch of little stories I filed today.” As they talk, Travis realizes for the first time since they started this thing, they’ve not spent much time together recently as a couple. They’ve both been  coming and going, orbiting each other but not really communicating a lot and with a pang, he also realizes that even now, they’re still just sort of…orbiting. He feels the distance acutely. The physical distance, and the emotional distance as well.

“Hey Liz?” His voice is quieter now. More reflective. On the other side of the line, she shifts a bit, picking up on the abrupt change. She knows Travis, by now. His moods. The highs and lows. 

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

God knows he does. Liz has been his champion. Faithful. Loyal. Without her, he knows he’d be screwed right about now. Even getting this far—it’s been Liz and her family coupled with James and Kelly pushing him on. When he tells her he loves her, his voice cracks just a little.

On the other side of the line, Liz feels her chest clench, and she lets out a quiet, slow exhale.

“You’re going to be great,” she tells him, and means it. Travis is the most stubborn man she knows. Hell, he played through bruised ribs, and even though its been rough the past few months, Travis has stuck it out--the training, their grueling schedules. Yes, there have been lows, but--

He smiles at her sincerity. Liz and her family along with James have become his biggest cheerleaders. And his girlfriend has become his rock. He’s just been too worried and preoccupied lately to tell her how much he appreciates her, and he thinks, as they hang up and he starts getting dressed for the dinner, that when he gets back, he needs to show her rather than tell her.

Yet as she hangs up, Liz feels the full weight of everything they’ve been through. It comes on suddenly, something she’s been trying to push down, put out of her mind. It’s not the first time for this, but now, sitting in her bedroom alone for the first time in months, with no one around and a house that's silent, Liz feels...trapped. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm experimenting. All feedback is welcome--especially when it comes to character development, plot development, etc.


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